


Twenty Three

by graceverse



Category: One Tree Hill
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Laley Friendship, Naley, past nathan/peyton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 95,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceverse/pseuds/graceverse
Summary: Nathan Scott is done playing basketball. In fact, if he's going to be honest about it, he's done with living. But one funeral just might change that.
Relationships: Brooke Davis/Lucas Scott, Haley James Scott/Nathan Scott, Peyton Sawyer/Lucas Scott
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I should apologize in advance for killing off someone. But it had to be done. Anyway, please let me know what you guys think. Feedback is much, much appreciated.

**_One_ **

It's Saturday night, 10:44 to be exact.

And if you're from around here, from Tree Hill that is, you'd know that around this time there's a tall young man with dark hair standing at the middle of the court holding a basketball in one arm staring intently at the basket.

He stands there for five whole minutes, silent, unmoving. If you're watching him from a far, like the way you're watching now, you'd find yourself wondering if he's still breathing. You can't be sure. He's is so still that way. And then at 10:49, you know this, since you've just glance at your watch, he puts his right foot forward, twists his ankle, moves his left foot, turns in a half circle, dribbles the ball to the left and then to right. He spins and fakes, dodging an invisible opponent. He's real quick. And graceful. He makes it look like he's doing some fancy footwork, an almost aggressive kind of waltz.

He drives forward to the basket and it looks so effortless, the way he bends his knees, puts all of his weight, well somewhere, you're not exactly sure where, and then he's flying. He really is. The take-off is awesome. Amazing. He stretches his arms and slams the ball in.

There is no roar of the crowd, although inside your head, you could hear it and it's almost deafening, until you realize that it's the silence that you're actually hearing. He settles back to earth, keeps his eyes on the ground, arms akimbo, hands on his hip. He is breathing hard and from where you're standing, you wonder briefly if maybe he's crying. He takes one huge, deep breath, runs his hand through his head and quietly walks away.

It's 11:02 pm and Nathan Scott heads home.

But if you're not from around here, this is his life: He was the star basketball player of their high school. The Almighty Soaring Blue White and Black Ravens. His room is a testament to his greatness. His past greatness. There are trophies everywhere. State Championships, two years in a row; MVP awards from grade school until his college days. He was destined for greatness and then one day he gets a call.

His father, the equally legendary basketball hero of this town, Dan Scott, is dead.

And then there was just no reason to play basketball anymore.

* * *

There was a time, Nathan thinks, when he's never home at all. Or if and when he did find himself stumbling through his room, he reeked of alcohol and some girly, fruity and pricey Chanel perfume. It was a lifetime ago. He doesn't really recognize that boy anymore. Not that he recognizes himself these days. He stares around his room and decides that tomorrow, he'll finally clean it. His mother would at least be happy about that.

He's gonna have to get rid of the stuff that he would never use any more. He glances at the shelf that houses all those once shiny silver and gold medals and trophies. If he looks at them, he'd see his sniggering reflection. They're all smudged with dust now. The trophies could go. And if those were going, so should all the framed pictures of his jump shots. His lay ups. His dunks. His teams. He'd have to put them in a box and have them shipped off to somewhere far. Like China or something. He'll get rid of the jerseys too. In fact, he thinks, sitting up, since it's still too early to go to bed (not that he ever sleeps at all) maybe he should start tonight.

It takes him less than an hour to have everything all boxed up. There it is. His past life. All inside three boxes marked "This Side Up" and "Fragile"

 _Fragile_.

There isn't anything in Nathan Scott's life that could be called _fragile_.

He sits down on his bed, reluctantly opens the closest box and finds a stack of old, tattered leather bound notebooks. The journals are small, it fits his one hand and it feels familiar to him. The smell of leather and paper and sweat surrounds him. Nathan remembers all those journals his father had given him. He has kept them all. Why, he isn't sure. It's a physical testament to the kind of man his father was and the kind of son he had been. He never read them again after he'd fill the pages with numbers and daily stats. He randomly picks one, absentmindedly flips through it before realizing that this one is from his senior year in high school:

Stretching: 15 minutes; sprints: 30 yards x 15; Bench press: 160; Run until you puke; shooting drills: jump shots in the morning, lay ups in the afternoon. 90 each. Start count over if it doesn't make basket.

It's not like he didn't love basketball. He did. The journals were like his daily love letters for basketball. He loved it because it was the only thing he was actually good at. Because it was the one thing that made his father proud; it was the very thing that drove them together and apart.

It was complicated, his relationship with his father. He wants to be like him and he desperately does not want to end up like him. Dan Scott was both a glowing hero and a much hated villain. He drove Nathan to all those championships, all those trophies and medals, opened up the possibilities of a future so great, so overwhelming, it swallowed up every other aspect of Nathan's life and when his father died, well, the drive to prove he was his father's son, that he wasn't _just_ his father's son died with it. Complicated.

He works at his mom's bar. At least right now that's what he's doing. He just finished college and he's trying to dodge all the coaches and agents calling up, visiting and asking him if he's ready to play again. He lets them talk for an hour, lets them shower him with praises, lets them treat him for lunch, dinner, drinks, women but then after all that, he tells them no and he walks away. He was that good that even after quitting basketball for almost a year since his father died, they're still asking for him, still giving him the talk.

_Of course losing a father is harsh, hard, a real fucking blow, son. But the best way to cope, and not to get over it, mind you - I have a father too, he's a real bastard, but if he died, I wouldn't want to get over that quickly, you know - is to play again. Play real fucking hard. Turn pro._

He plays with his friends and it doesn't really do anything to him anymore. It isn't the same as it used to be. He still enjoys the game, but it's become just that to him: a game. He isn't depressed or anything like that. And even if he sometimes catches his mom looking worriedly at him, he doesn't feel like there's a real need to worry about him.

They say grief comes in stages and he's wondering what stage he is in right now. If there was a blank almost emotionless, dreamless stage, then that's where he is right now. That's likely where he'll be spending the rest of his life. And what was wrong with that? He's accepted everything that had happened. He's settled. He likes his life this way. It's normal and quiet and it's exactly the way he wants it to be. After all, there is nothing else to be had.

* * *

It's another Sunday morning. Like all the rest of the Sunday mornings he's had ever since Dan's death. He's meeting up Tim Smith and Jake Jagelski at a local café. Hang out there. For the whole morning probably since Tric, his mom's bar, doesn't open up until seven tonight. He's got a lot of free time of doing absolutely nothing.

Jake and Tim has been his friends ever since he could remember. Friends and team mates. They did the getting drunk, hooking up and then getting drunk again thing when they were in high school. They were the demigods of their school. It was a given right. They had brought glory and accolades to the school and they were treated not just as athletes but as royalty.

After high school, they all decided to go to the same college but for different reasons: He was going to play ball, conquer the NCCA and then turn pro. That was the plan. At least that was Dan's plan. Tim wanted to be an artist. Draw stuff. Comics. Whatever. Jake had to get a business degree, get serious and provide for his daughter. They figured they could do all that in the same college and while playing ball. Although in the end, Tim and Jake couldn't cut it on the varsity team. There was very little resentment over that. They all knew it was bound to happen.

Anyway, all those plans ended up just as that. Plans.

These days, Tim's somewhat of a freelance graphic artist. Or so he'd like to say. He draws a lot of scathingly (un)funny comics for some music magazine. Thud. It was the lamest name Nathan had ever heard and he doesn't let Tim forget about this particular opinion. Tim doesn't care. He says it's temporary and he's really targeting MTV. Maybe make those logo-commercials and CGI shit. Jake is nowhere near the business man he had plan to be but he's a damn good assistant coach at their old high school.

Nathan thinks that no one seems to be where they want to be, but it's not like they have any choice. You gotta deal with what life gives you.

He parks the car and takes his time walking towards the café. He's always loved Sundays. Sunday is the only free day he has. He does absolutely nothing on Sundays. He hangs out with friends. Plays a bit at the Rivercourt. Stay in his bedroom, do some NBA live, watch old games. Sometimes his games, sometimes his dad's games. If he hooked up with a girl Friday night at Tric, then sometimes he'd call her and they could hang or talk or sometimes do more or less than talk. He realizes with a start that it has been months since he’d actually done that.

 _Months._ That ought to be some sort of record. Maybe he is just a little bit depressed enough to not actively search for meaningless hook ups with women he didn’t care about. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? He decides he doesn’t really care right now.

He enters the café and immediately spots Jake and Tim, huddled together over the newspaper. Nathan casually slides into the empty seat next to Jake.

"It's just you know, so high school." Tim complains, sounding deeply offended.

Nathan guesses that Tim is being his usual asinine self, criticizing the local paper’s comics section. Again.

"Nate, man, isn't this just lame?"

"He's getting worked up over Archie and Veronica and Betty and the whole sordid love triangle thing." Jake said bringing him up to speed.

Nathan watches with amusement as Jake starts rolling his eyes, sounding exasperated. Jake and Tim had probably been debating this particular topic for a while now. "Tim, don't." Nathan warns, "Archie is like, classic."

"It's lame." Tim insists. "Why can't Archie decide? I mean, if it was me, I'd go for Veronica. Definitely."

Nathan frowns and shakes his head. Why were they having conversations that they should have had during middle school? But then again, what else should they be talking about? The past glories? Certainly not the best topic of discussion. Their current problems? The constant pressure and stress of adulthood? No thanks.

Well, Betty or Veronica, then.

He likes blondes better. He'd always liked them better. Plus, Betty had always been way cooler than Veronica, who was spoiled and rich and was like every other girl who had thrown themselves at him, latching on even when he started acting like the world's biggest jackass. "You'd choose her, of course." He quips, raising a knowing eyebrow at his friend.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tim asks, frowning.

"I like Betty," Jake says, thoughtfully nodding his head ignoring Tim's question. "She's hot."

"Well," Tim starts with a huff, "Archie's a dickhead. Don't you hate guys who just can't fucking decide? They're like girls."

"Not like Timmy Boy huh?" Jake smirks as Tim throws him a dirty look.

They always tease Tim for naming his main comic character after himself. Jake used to say that the last thing Tim needed was a venue for his inane ramblings and narcissistic tendencies.

"Yeah, didn't he have a group jerk-off last issue?" Nathan adds with a chuckle.

"It's called realism." Tim glowers at them.

Jake and Nathan pauses for a whole second before dissolving into fits of (rather unmanly) giggles. "Smith," Nathan chokes out, "who in holy hell did you have a group jerk-off with?"

Tim suddenly turns beet red before sucking in a deep breath and then choking on that same breath, "It was in high school, ok. Everyone was doing it." He retorts defensively, crossing his arms against his chest. "The cool kids at least." He adds when Nathan and Jake shares a knowing look.

"Right. Okay, moving along." Jake says with a sigh, snapping the page shut and tossing the offensive comic section to the next table. He looks around the café for a few seconds before letting out a low whistle, "Hey, Gattina, some actual service here would be appreciated."

The red haired lounging by the counter, absentmindedly, busily twirling her hair pauses, shoots them a glare and then flips them the bird before sauntering over to the kitchen.

"Such a charmer." Nathan comments, shaking his head.

"There used to be a girl here who was really efficient, plus she was fucking gorgeous." Tim says. "She worked here for like a year, but she moved or something. I never talked to her. Wish I did. She could've been, you know, the one that got away."

Jake and Nathan roll their eyes at the same time. Every girl to Tim was the 'one who got away' just like every girl in high school used to be 'crazy for The Tim' and wanted some 'Tim Time'.

"Yeah, what's she like?" Jake challenges.

"Dark hair. Real sassy. Incredibly hot. And funny too. Like silly funny. The kind of girl who snorts when she laughs." Tim sighs almost dreamily. "She always made sure that my coffees were refilled. She called everyone 'Babe'. But she says it differently when she's talking to me."

Of course she does, Nathan thinks as he slouches lower on his chair, raising his eyebrow and jutting his chin out. "And she worked here?"

"Yeah." Tim answers in the same challenging tone.

Jake snorts. "In your dreams."

"It's true. I swear! You were so busy being in love with your girlfriend back in college, what was her name? P-something."

Nathan has to think hard who Tim was referring to. He doesn't remember being in love with any of the girls he dated. He listens as Tim ticked off a few descriptions and when he said 'always breaking up with you but getting back again the next day,' Nathan finally remembers her. "Peyton."

Blonde, curly haired, green eyed Peyton Sawyer. The girl who could match his anger. He had been fucking crazy in lust over her. And every time it became apparent that they had nothing in common - the girl listens to whiny music all the time, smokes like a chimney and paints distorted objects - they could not seem to let each other go. The first time they broke up and got back together it had been sad and wistful and maybe even promising. It was accompanied by a million apologies and a gazillion more promises.

Nathan promised to treat her better, stop being a dick, stop flirting with anyone wearing a skirt (Peyton's exact words). Peyton promised to stop being such a bitch and being so emotionally aloof (again, Peyton's words). But the succeeding break ups and getting back together again - despite the many obvious reasons why they shouldn't have: more broken promises, more disappointments - had been more like a way to punish each other.

Nathan would always end up doing something that'll disappoint her and Peyton always would break up with him. For the nth time. And Nathan would get back with her again, still furious at himself for breaking his promises _and_ for being dumped. And to get back at him for every pain and suffering he had put her through (yep, still Peyton's words) she'd agree to give their relationship just another, one more last _last_ chance.

It was never just a "last chance" thing. It was a vicious cycle and one that, as the time progressed, became less and less about love and more about pride and just damn stubbornness.

It was true. Love is lovelier the second time around but the third and the fourth and the fifth and the sixth and so on, well, it just sucked ass. It took them a year to finally admit that they were just not meant to be and that they were never meant to be in the first place.

"Yeah her. You were so hung up over her, totally whipped." Tim makes the universal 'how could you?' look whenever guys start accusing each other of letting a girl get her way with them, especially if it's a girl you're having a serious relationship with. If it was just some random hook up, it's totally okay to act like a lovesick idiot, but if you're actually in love with the girl, it's a bad thing.

Nathan is certain that he had not been Peyton's whipping boy. "I was not."

"You were, man or at least you were with the whole drama of it." Jake agrees, backing Tim up. He raises his hand in feeble defense as Nathan shakes his head in disbelief. "Sorry, but it was like you thrived on it."

"Whatever."

"Nate, you're like so totally into Peyton. That was the year no other girl existed in the planet. It was all Peyton this, Peyton that." Tim reminds him.

"For about the first three months," Jake adds with a sneer.

"Just goes to show how far up your head had been in your ass." Nathan mutters to himself, thinking of the many girls and women he had managed to flirt with all while dating Peyton Sawyer. He was such an unbelievable jerk (his words, not Peyton).

"What ever happened to her?" Jake asks, forehead creasing as though trying to remember how Peyton looked like.

Tim lets out a sullen sigh. "I dunno man, I told you I never talked to her."

Jake makes a face and shakes his head, "Not the phantom waitress Dim, I meant Peyton."

Nathan pauses and thinks about it then realizes that he has no idea how Peyton's been doing, or where she is right now. They had dated for over a year and it had been intense to say the least. Although, in retrospect, the intensity was more from all those arguments, the adrenaline high of shouting matches that would sometimes very nearly end with him slamming a fist on a wall. He didn't of course. He had a basketball career to protect.

And ok, maybe even sex too. A lot of sex. When they broke up, finally for good, miraculously, despite everything that had happened to them, they managed to part as friends and she had even told him to keep in touch. But he never really called her figuring that if he did, they might just go through another round of break ups and hook ups. Peyton must have felt that way too, since she didn't bother calling him as well. Besides, it's over when it's over. Why hang on to things that were not meant to be yours in the first place?

"Nate?" Jake prods, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Dunno." He finally answers with a shrug. "Don't care."

"Well, that's just fucking romantic, Nate."

"Tim, shut up."

Rachel hovers over them and they're suddenly all silent, watching her. She smiles all sugary, syrupy sweet before slamming a cup of coffee in front of Nathan before wordlessly handing him the menu.

"Thank you." Nathan says with as much sarcasm as he could muster but Rachel has already turned her head, stalking off to plop herself on the same spot earlier, twirling her hair once again.

The girls here in Tree Hill, sometimes, Nathan wishes he had done what his bastard half-brother did: moved away and never returned.


	2. Two

_**Two** _

Fifteen minutes later, they are still at the café. Tim is still munching away. He's always been such a slow poke and he liked to talk a lot while eating. Actually, he just liked to talk a lot, period. Tim isn't as tall as Nathan, wasn't broody looking as Jake and had in most cases been pegged as the underdog, whether it is on the basketball team or the old gang of high school jocks that Nathan ran around with and commanded like a spoilt general during their Tree Hill High days.

Nathan had always been the leader and for whatever reason, both Tim and Jake seemed to have accepted this, although, Jake is definitely far more assertive than Tim, which is a good thing, since it's always Tim who comes up with the most ridiculous ideas. Like, for example: stealing their high school bus and trying to seduce younger freshmen girls.

Jake had always been more mature, always the voice reason. Well, no. Not _always_ , but at least when it did count. Then again, Nathan's social status at school easily trumps maturity and rationality which was why most of the time, during their high school and early college years, Jake would find himself either aboard a stolen bus or on a stupid blind date with a willing sophomore virgin.

They knew there was some sort of hierarchy on their friendship; Nathan always getting the best out of anything and everything. It was never mentioned and Nathan, at times, did try to not make it look so obvious, which Tim and Jake appreciated. They had been friends far too long to start harboring any sort of deep-seated resentment. There were some bad days but it was generally accepted as how things worked. Besides, boys get jealous over the strangest things. Like for example, the amount of time someone spends on the court, playing ball. Exposure to college scouts, getting a play. All the deep, emotional shit, like always being left out during parties mostly goes over their head.

"So, I was like, dude, that's freaking juvenile, grow up man." Tim gets animated when he's talking about his co-workers. The artists at his office tend to look down on him just because he played ball during high school. Tim unfortunately wasn't well versed with really obscure comics and anime and manga. Most probably because Time had terrorized them when they were kids, calling them dorks and nerds and geeks; inflicting them with all the typical bullying, alienating, emotional terrorism that they had so callously employed back when they were jocks, when that kind of behaviour was casually accepted as part of growing up.

What goes around always comes around in strange ways, at least.

"Uh-huh." Jake mumbles disinterestedly.

Nathan doesn't bother answering. He has no idea what Tim is talking about it. Bored now, no other place to go, nothing else to do, he has somehow ended up playing with crumpled table napkins, sending them flying over to the next table watching with no particular satisfaction as they whooshed in inside a juice glass or a cup of coffee or tea, depending on which table Rachel had not yet cleaned and cleared up.

Another one goes in perfectly, soaking up the lightly reddish liquid in the glass. Strawberry juice. Nice, Nathan thinks, slightly bemused.

Basketball is still in his genes, but sadly, no longer in his heart.

"And that's twelve out of fifteen. Still got the touch Scott." Tim says, stopping mid-story, clearly keeping score.

Nathan doesn't make any further comment although admittedly, he's more than a little relieved that this has gotten Tim's attention off from one of his office-rants. If this is what being an adult is about, Nathan would be more than happy to go back to the angst of their teen age years. Plus, maybe he could take back all the things that he did during the height of his jerkness. Lately, it was all he could think of. Vague recollections of the many wrong things he had done during his stay at Tree Hill. Is it possible to be sorry after so many years? He thinks yes, he's certainly feeling it now.

"Tim, just finish your food already." Jake says not looking up from the paper. "And why is it that every time I hang out with you, I feel like I'm hanging out with my six year old daughter?"

As though to disprove Jake's point, Tim makes a face, sticks out his tongue before huffily crossing his arms against his chest. "So, Captain Nate," Tim said, using the old high school nickname he had for Nathan. "What's the plan for the day?"

"Can't stay out late, I promise Jenny to get some ice cream tonight and watch DVDs," Jake reminds them both.

There was a time when basketball had been nothing but a distraction to Jake and Nathan used to think it should have been backwards, that Jenny, the daughter, should've been the distraction. Nathan had been smart enough to not ever tell Jake this during high school and he is sorry that he ever thought that way. Sometimes, Nathan wonders, if maybe all he needed was not something but someone to bring some semblance of _something_ to his life. Like a direction or a reason. Something that would make him _want_ to not stay out late.

"NBA Live?" Nathan suggests, "We could play at your place, that way you could still be with Jenny."

Tim snorts loudly, "Dude, not again. I mean," he turns towards Jake, twisting his lips in a semi-sneer, "have you not have enough of repeated spirit-crushing humiliation as only I, the Tim Man, can inflict upon your sorry loser ass?"

"Just say you're going to beat Jake again." Nathan said with a roll of his eyes.

"Or how about that you're just going to cheat like always, Cheater." Jake adds. He turns towards Nathan, "No can do, Nate. I promised Jen. We could just swing by the Rivercourt. Skills and Junk are gonna be there."

"Sounds good." Nathan nods his head in agreement. Not like there's anything else he'd be doing tonight. He aims and throws another perfect arch and it makes a full circle around the rim of an abandoned cup before swooshing in.

"Quit it." Rachel goes over to the other table, picks up the three balled up napkins that had missed their targets. She glares at him before snatching the cups and glasses away, placing them on her empty tray. "Jackholes." She hisses as she passes by their table.

"She likes you man." Tim says, kicking Nathan underneath the table and smirking at him.

"Are you blind?" Jake mutters over the newspaper he's been poring over. He's looking at the scores. Team standings, all those statistics that Nathan used to check out every morning before breakfast, before his daily runs. Nathan told them once that Dan used to quiz him over it: Scorboxes. Stats. Numbers. It seems like life is a never ending list of numbers that measures well, everything. Maybe even happiness. Sometimes, Jake truly feels sorry for his friend. He burrows his head deeper into the paper, trying to hide from Nathan. If there's one thing Nathan picks up just as easily as he can pick up a basketball, it was pity. And he gets more than just his usual grumpy self at the merest hint, even suspicion, of being pitied.

"Man, that girl has got the hots for you." Tim repeats, ignoring Jake and nodding his head over to Rachel's direction.

Nathan scoffs but idly glances back, checks Rachel out. She's not bad looking. She went to Tree Hill with them, was probably a cheerleader, Nathan tries to remember if he ever spoke with her, ever offered her a drink at a party, ever led her into a closet or an empty room. He tries really hard but he can't remember. Lately, that too has been bothering him. That he can't seem to remember anything from before. Things that happened yesterday seemed vague, far away, like from a life that did not belong to him.

Rachel must have felt his stare; she turns to look at him, glowering darkly before turning her back and walking away.

Nathan might have been an ass to her before and he isn't at all surprised if that was the case. He wonders if he had acted out all his high school life as the arrogant jock who took everything because it had been given to him; because people said it was alright, he deserved it and because Dan Scott certainly had a reputation for being a ladies' man as well. _Like father, like son._

Again, he finds himself wishing he hadn't been such a jerk back then; maybe he'd have more or at least better friends. Not that Tim and Jake were bad; it's just that, they were the same people who had been jerks like and with him. He couldn't remember anyone outside the basketball team and cheering squad that he had been friends with and besides, all of them were gone now. Probably also leading lives that were not the lives that they had wanted or dreamed of.

Jake shakes his head. "Forget her, she's dating Lips or Chin or I don't know, someone's face."

"Mouth." Nathan answers almost automatically, surprised that he remembered the geeky little kid who used to follow the whole team around and who always knew how many points they scored at any particular game. He wonders if Mouth was having a better life than he is. He sincerely hopes so. He'd been one of the good kids. Mouth never hero-worshipped him. A lot of times, he'd call on Nathan's ball-hogging and un-captain like behaviors. This of course earned him a couple of locker shoving. Nathan hangs his head in shame at the memory.

"Holy shit!" Jake suddenly exclaims, putting the paper down.

"What, someone broke Nate's scoring record or something?" Tim asks trying to read the paper from his seat across the table. They still have an on-going bet that Nathan's high school record can never be beaten. Jake said it's possible. One day, some kid will smash that record. Tim thinks it's simply impossible. Nathan doesn't particularly care. He doesn't want to hold that record anyway, everyone's going to ask: _well, what happened to the guy who held the record for most number of points in a high school game ever_ ( _40 points_ ) _?_

Nathan knows the answer to that: ran away from the game, mixing drinks at the bar. The basketball prodigy is now a bar manager. Yes it's true. Come at Tric, watch him be a failure.

"Man, look, here." Jake slides the paper over at Tim, pointing at a small box and Nathan silently watch as Tim's eyes move through the words getting slightly bigger by the second until they're practically bugging out of his head.

Jake shifts away from him, the movement catching Nathan's attention. Nathan feels his heart suddenly beating a slower pace. _What?_ The expression on Jake's face---

"Don't give it to him, jackass." Tim hisses, grabbing the newspaper but Jake would not let go.

Nathan clenches his teeth. Easier to say that it no longer mattered to him that some up and coming hot shot had broken his record. Now that it's here, it's different.

"Hey, stop, give it back." Jake latches on to the pages of the newspaper and Nathan, despite his growing dread and irritations, has to admit that his friends were acting pretty fucking ridiculous. "What is it now?" He asks in a tightly controlled voice.

Jake and Tim immediately stops bickering and the look that passes between them tells Nathan it's something bigger than a broken scoring record. And that quickly, everything changes. And he is well aware of the unspoken universal truth: The more things change, the worse they get. But just how worse could it get for him? He could feel his stomach clenching. He grits his teeth and leans over the table. "Give it to me."

"Aw, Nate, it's really nothing." Tim says, lying badly.

"It's not _nothing_." Jake insists angrily, earning him a sharp elbow from Tim.

"Hand it over." Nathan says, the tone of his voice not leaving any room for arguments. Jake lets go of the paper and now it's all up to Tim to be the bearer of bad news. Tim gives Nathan the puppy dog eyes, which is seriously disturbing, to say the least, before sullenly surrendering and anxiously sliding the paper towards him, giving him one last painful stare.

At first he couldn't find what the big deal was. The page wasn't even at the sports section. To his left were stupid ads and on the other page was the obituary. He's about to ask them what the hell was their problem and were they PMS-ing or what? when he sees it.

It's just a small box. A small announcement. He would've totally missed it if he hadn't been aware that he's supposed to be looking for something awful.

 _Awful_. What a flimsy word that is.

"I'm so sorry man." Jake says his voice low and sympathetic.

Nathan doesn't look up. He keeps his eyes on the printed letters. He could feel Tim's stare, could feel the sudden heavy tension in the air, the silence that had settled over them. It's the kind of silence that is filled with burning questions, weighted by the truth, by _this_ reality.

Nathan doesn't say anything. Not because he’s too shocked or because he’s suddenly gripped with sadness. To be honest, he isn't feeling anything at all. Should he feel something? He asks himself, reading the words over and over again. Maybe grief? Even a little bit of it. But there's just… _nothing_. He didn't even know the guy. At least not personally, although he was aware of his existence and now, it seems, as well as his non-existence.

"I gotta go." He announces all of a sudden, surprising both Tim and Jake. He feels his legs pushing him up, out from his seat. He feels his hand groping into the pocket of his jeans, feels his wrist flicking sharply as he threw a few crumpled bills on the table, he feels his face wincing when he realizes that there's not enough tip there for Rachel and she'll probably put it down on her list on the many ways Nathan Scott had made her life miserable. He is aware of all these motions and actions, like being on court. It's all automatic. He feels as though he is having an out of body experience. Kind of like the same thing that happened when he heard the news of his father's death.

A wide-eyed, panicked look is slowly making its way on Tim and Jake's faces but he barely notices it. "What? Nate, man, go where?" Tim asks, watching as Nathan walks past their table and then at Rachel who is watching them with interest now.

"Move it, get out," Jake orders. "C'mmon, where do you think he's going?" He asks in annoyance, grabbing the paper from the table.

"This can't be good." Tim is glaring at Jake and Jake happily returns the glare. "You shouldn't have, man." He says in a barely audible whisper.

"Like he wouldn't have found out anyway," Jake reasons out quite reasonably too and Tim has nothing to say to that, but he has to whine, since he hasn't finished eating yet and whining is his forte. At least it is for situations such as this.

This is how it feels, being thrown in a time loop or being trapped in a recurring dream. No, Tim thinks, not dream, but a _nightmare._

This was how it had been the morning they found out that Dan Scott had died in the hospital. Nathan had been with them the whole night, playing NBA live and refusing to talk, let alone, acknowledge the fact that the night before Mr. Scott died, Nathan had threatened his very own father that he'll quit basketball for good and that he was going to leave Tree Hill.

Tim could just imagine Dan Scott sneering at Nathan asking: _And do what, son?_ And in that moment, that small fraction of a second, Tim almost thought that Nathan's better off without Mr. Scott. Just that briefest moment and then he was back to being sorry for Nathan. Nothing could be worse than losing a parent, your father, your childhood hero.

"Couldn't you have waited until we finished breakfast?" Tim complains again, looking back at the café a forlorn expression crossing his face. He wishes they were back at the café, without this knowledge. Tim wishes they were back to being bored and clueless. Anything but this.

"Tim, grow up man." Jake scolds, glaring at him.

Tim huffs and sniffs, walking beside his friend. Typical of Jake, The Mature One. Well, as far as Tim is concerned, screw growing up. Growing up has not done him any sort of good at all. And besides, he thinks, leaving this unsaid, it's not like Nathan actually cares. Nathan never cared, at least not about this. This has always been, for the greater part of their lives, something that they never talked about. Never mentioned. Not even in the sneering, name-calling way. Unless it was absolutely, absolutely necessary.

Well, ok. So maybe this counts as _absolutely_ necessary. But still.

They step out of the café, eyes going everywhere, trying to look for Nathan. They've known him long enough to actually be worried of what he'll do. The moment they lose him, there's just no way for them to catch up with him. Or find him. Nathan wasn't a six-time MVP for nothing. Speed was his greatest strength and Nathan had always had a bad habit of trying to out run his problems. That and making decisions on the spot. Decisions that usually didn't bring out the best in him or in any situation, for that matter.

Who knows what he'll do this time? The last time something like this happened, he completely up rooted himself from _himself_ ; dropping out of the team and practically out of everyone's lives. If Tim and Jake had not been stubborn bastards, Nathan would've probably cut them out of his life as well.

Someone honks at them and they both let out huge sighs of relief as they peered inside Nathan's massive black and chrome SUV. The bass is thumping around Nathan, like an irregular heartbeat as a new hip hop song blasts out from his car stereo.

"Well, you two coming or what?" He asks impatiently over the music. Not a tremor, nothing in his voice. It was as though he was asking them if they were coming with him to see a game or to watch some stupid movie.

"Do you want us to come?" Tim asks in a rather small, nervous, tentative voice.

Jake rolls his eyes, hits Tim's head with his knuckles, pushing him into the car. "Get in dipshit."

"I don't think this is a good idea, Nate." Tim says, buckling his seatbelt and glancing worriedly at Nathan.

"Where's he at?" Nathan asks out loud. Tim shoots Jake a pained look as Jake unfolds the paper once again, the bold, black letters staring at him. It looks stark and angry and just too fucking _real_ for it to be just some sort of mistake. A horrible mix up. The name is familiar, but it looks severely out of place and just wrong. Amongst the rest of the names of the people who had just died, a small announcement: two boxes from the left, in between 63 year old Mr. Fitzburg and 87 year old Annie Cornwell, there it was, the name of Nathan's older half-brother:

Lucas Scott.

23 years old.

So young and already so dead.

Jake winces, shudders and tells Nathan the address and as they got into the state highway, Tree Hill receding from behind them, he silently agrees with Tim. This isn't a good idea. But that has never stopped Nathan Scott before.


	3. Three

_**Three** _

How weird that all these time, all those years of avoiding Lucas and now, here they are, on their way to Oak Lake for a visit. Except, it's definitely not going to be a happy family reunion - not that Nathan had ever fantasized about it - the happy family reunion that is.

He had known when exactly Lucas Scott had packed up and left Tree Hill for good. It was the summer he turned thirteen, already a shoo-in for the junior varsity basketball team. And even then, people were already buzzing with excitement. This would be the start of another basketball legacy. Two Scott basketball prodigies. Whitey's finally going to have the state championship he had always dreamed of and to be fair, it's not just Tree Hill High's most feared, most famous, most beloved coach who had started fantasizing about the glory of a high school state championship. Most of the townsfolk who lived and counted on the excitement of high school basketball were all already envisioning all the games - pre and post seasons – all leading to the state championship that they'd be watching. All the celebrating that they'd be doing. With the two Scott brothers, Tree Hill Ravens will be unstoppable!

And oh, how those dreams crashed and burned. How sorely, bitterly disappointed they had all been the day a single moving truck arrived and parked right in front of Karen Roe's house, hauling over cheap pieces of furniture, emptying the house that Dan Scott had gone over to countless night during his younger days. The very same house that he now avoided, that he now refused to acknowledge its very existence. It was as though the place - even though everyone knew the address: street number, street name- had been permanently erased from the local map.

* * *

It was a one-story, charming little yellow house surrounded by magnolias and roses whose thorns had pricked and punctured Dan's skin whenever he lurked over at the front porch waiting for Karen to come around from the back door, boldly meeting him at the front of the house even though her parents had absolutely forbidden her from seeing _that_ boy ever again.

No matter how good he was at basketball, Karen's mother and grandmother had warned her about him and she didn't listen and when she got pregnant, when her mother's disappointment had been too much to bear, there was nothing left to do but pack up her bags and live with some distant cousin in Illinois. And when she came back, head held up high, baby in her arms, she let the rumors and the talk brush off of her. The more she walked around the town, little blue-eyed Lucas in her arms, the whispers behind her back became less and less until it slowly died down. One day, the whispering just suddenly stopped and then one by one, as though pulled by the irresistible shade of Lucas' eyes, the people of Tree Hill who had once scorned the sixteen year old single mother was coming over to their house, stopping her at the corner, just so they can look at bright-eyed Lucas.

When the whispers came back, they were all for Dan Scott. At night, when the Roe house is filled with the cries of a little boy, they all whispered amongst themselves: how could anyone abandon Karen and Lucas? They all asked: where is Dan Scott? How could he have left this precious blue-eyed baby boy?

While Karen was trying to raise her little boy alone, Dan Scott, Tree Hill local hero, was in college chasing after his college dreams and sleeping with another girl. And when it was his time to return, a different woman in his arms and a little boy of his own – the same blue eyes, but darker, as though already with a knowledge of his father's secrets – there was no hero welcome for him.

Dan Scott bitterly accepted that his glory days were over. He was tainted. And so he decided to forget about Karen and his high school mistake. He very carefully erased whatever memories he had of that little house at number 1829 Wrightsville Ave, Tree Hill, North Carolina. To Dan Scott, that place and those residing in it had long ceased to exist.

* * *

Dan Scott was exceptionally good with ignoring the people that were of no use to him. Sometimes, Nathan thinks that next to basketball, he had also acquired that very trait. In high school, he had shown how easily he can forget you, even when you have spent the whole night together, even if you tell him that he was your first. He forgets because they were just distractions. But there were certain things that Nathan can never forget; memories that he couldn't cut out and disregard.

He remembers distinctly how it felt every time people would stop and greet him by the street. He was instinctively well aware of what they were thinking: here he is, Dan Scott's other son. The one who is living the life that Lucas should have had.

It had always been that way. When people talked about Dan Scott, they automatically talked about Lucas and Nathan. Brothers and strangers. One doesn't think about Nathan without thinking about Lucas. The same way that one doesn't think about Dan without thinking about Keith. Strangers, too, those two men. What is it with these Scott brothers? It goes too that one doesn't also think about single mother, Karen Roe without thinking about trophy wife, Deb Scott.

In the small town where they live in, everyone knows that they were the second generation of Scott brothers destined to grow up hating each other. It's a family curse. One brother would grow up selfish and arrogant. He's going to be dark and beautiful. And the other, good-looking and trustworthy, is bound to be quiet, reserved, always willing to step aside. One brother gets to have everything. The other has to stand by and watch as his life becomes fuzzy shadows of possibilities. Blurry could have and should have been's.

Three guesses which brother Nathan is.

It wasn't as though he and Lucas had ever really talked. Sure, they saw each other but Nathan had always been proud and defiant and every time their paths crossed he used to call Lucas all sorts of name: Sheet Stain, Bastard Boy, Little Puke-Ass. He bullied his older brother relentlessly and Lucas never uttered a word, never fought back. He just stared at him like _he_ was sorry for _him_.

Lucas's seemingly misplaced pity added more fuel to the already burning contempt that Nathan had for him. For their shared history. Their shared genes. After all, wasn't it just that? They shared their father's genes. Same blue eyes. Same love for the same sport. Nothing more, nothing else.

And yet Lucas always had a way of making him feel as though, between the two of them, _he_ had gotten off worst, that there was something that Lucas finds pitiful in him and in Dan. And Nathan could not figure out why Lucas would ever think that way when he was the one left fatherless and living on the wrong side of the town.

Nathan remembers his father taking them to some fancy restaurant the very same night Karen and Lucas drove out of Tree Hill, leaving behind the past that would not and could not leave them alone. Nathan didn't know it then, but he understands it now.

Karen had enough sense to realize that with Nathan and Lucas headed for the same high school, it was time to take matters into her own hands. Lucas will have the life that he wants, whether it was going to be a star basketball player or an honor student, Lucas would have that in _peace_ , her boy deserves it. He will not be forced to live with the past or with Nathan or Dan following him around the school like some dark shadow.

It was clear that there wasn't enough space in Tree Hill for the sons of Dan Scott.

And even though, at that time, Nathan had been somewhat relieved he had also felt a little flicker of envy. How wonderful would it be if he could also escape and live his life away from the ever looming, far reaching shadows of his father?

At dinner, Dan hadn't even tried to hide how pleased he was that he had managed to drive away the family that he had never wanted in the first place. There would be fewer talks behind his back now. Karen did the right thing, the smart thing and now, they could all move on with their lives. Put everything behind them and start a new one. None of his past mistakes could further taint and ruin their perfect future, the future that he had envisioned for them, especially for Nathan.

And as Nathan listened to his father proclaiming that he made the right decision when he chose Deb and him over Karen and Lucas, it made him feel as though they were going to be forever hounded, chained by the past. Whatever happens now, they'd always have to keep looking back over their shoulders, wary of Karen and Lucas returning and taking everything away from them, from him and his mom. And more than that, it drove home the truth that Dan saw them as nothing more than his property that there's always that slight possibility that he and his mother could have been the one running away from Tree Hill that very moment.

_"It's a good thing too son" Dan added during dinner, "because if Lucas had stayed here... well, let's face it, you're going to have to fight tooth and nail for your spot in the basketball team."_

He gave his father a sneer-like grin. Thank you, dad, for your overwhelming vote of confidence.

Nathan also remembers the first time he saw his half-brother again. It was at a basketball game and it was against Lucas's team. Nathan had puked three times on the way and countless more during the week as he tried to get in proper shape. Running lapses were doubled, lifting weights tripled. A few (okay, maybe a lot) of pills bitterly swallowed down.

Everyone who knew about Lucas Scott would be keeping scores between them: which brother will score more, which brother will have more assists, which brother is more graceful, will play better. Who will play like their father?

Nathan knew that he's taller than Lucas, that he's built better, that he plays better. But even with all that knowledge, it hadn't helped him at all. During the game, he remembered wanting to score every-fucking-time. The ball goes to him and only to him. Coach Whitey had threatened to bench him but he knew that was all just empty threats, after all, there was no chance his coach was going to put their winning streak on the line.

At the end of the game, when he was thrown out for throwing the first punch, for making Lucas's mouth bleed, the Ravens were up by thirteen. They had won. He scored more than Lucas did. He played better. He had proven them all, everyone who ever doubted him, especially his father, that he was the right choice.

"Could have gone for a triple double tonight, son," Was the only thing Dan had to say to him on their way home.

And Nathan had the sinking feeling that _that_ night was just the beginning and that it will never really end no matter how much he proves himself worthy of being Dan Scott's son.

And he was right.

How many times had he and Lucas fought in the court? How many times had he proven he was better, faster, scored higher? How many times had they won over Lucas's team?

Too many.

Too few.

Nathan could not decide.

"So, what exactly are we going to say?" Tim suddenly asks from out of nowhere, pulling Nathan out from his reverie. Nathan couldn't help but notice how genuinely, sincerely perplexed Tim sounded. Nathan gives him an incredulous glance.

"What the hell Smith, haven't you gone to a funeral before?" Jake irritably asks from the backseat.

"No." Tim says a little too defensively. He frowns and then makes a face, "Well, yeah. I mean, it was my grandmother okay? It was perfectly fine that I didn't say anything, it was enough that I just looked sad."

Jake silently stares hard at the back of his Tim's head and it takes Tim half a second before twisting in his seat to glare at Jake. "I _was_ sad! It's was my nana, okay!"

Jake snorts and then turns his attention towards Nathan who hadn't spoken the entire time. "Although, Nate, hate to say it, he does have a point. I mean, are you gonna go there and say..."

Nathan finds himself gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. He relaxes his fingers and takes in a deep breath. "I don't know what I'll say ok. I just, he's... he's still, you know, family." The word tastes odd in his mouth. Rubbery. "Whatever."

"He played ball too, didn't he?" Tim asks no one in particular, looking rather gloomy as he stared outside, almost like a little boy, keeping his eyes glued to the passing, wheezing green blurs of trees lining the highway. "Like won championships and stuff. Although," he pauses to grin at Nate and then at Jake, "we totally kicked their ass. Remember senior year?" He asks, eyes twinkling merrily at the memory.

"Tim," Jake starts in a serious voice, "I think it's not polite to say that we kicked someone's ass when they're, you know, _dead_."

Tim pales and nervously glances at Nathan. "Oh, shit, I'm... I'm sorry man."

Nathan remembers senior year. He remembers briefly thinking that it seemed oddly right that his last game in high school was against his brother. He remembers watching Lucas, though defeated, getting hugs from his mom and from a girl (probably a girlfriend) with long dark brown hair falling in waves and curls, spilling past her shoulder, almost reaching her small waist. Lucas had been engulfed by hugs that night, like _he_ had won the championship game. Nathan sees it in his mind, the image is vivid, it's almost as though he's seeing it again, right in front of him and he feels the same stab of envy.

There he was, clutching the state championship trophy, clutching the dream that he had chased all his high school years, the physical proof that he had finally done something his father had not been able to do and yet even with the brightly colored confetti raining down on him and the adoring congratulations he had been receiving, he had never felt so miserable and alone.

"We did kick their ass." Nathan casually agrees, nodding his head. "He's a good player though." He admits, finally. But the admission tastes even more awful than 'family'. Like spoilt milk and he has to swallow something vile-tasting that lingered at the back of his mouth.

"He was ok." Tim agrees, "I mean, he got those threes down and the lay ups, but we all know lay ups are for pansies." Tim pauses and then as though realizing what he had just said, he winces, looking thoroughly wounded. "Sorry."

Jake snickers and after a few seconds, Nathan lets out a small chuckle.

Tim shakes his head and mutters: "Asshats."

It didn't take them long to find the chapel. It's the only chapel in Oak Lake and every black car on the road seemed to be leading towards it anyway. It's a somber looking building; all gray slabs of concrete with delicate arches coming together to form a small dome. Even the windows were empty black squares, no rose-colored glass stained depictions of heaven and angels and miracles, just blank spaces in between the gray columns. And above it, a solitary, solemn white cross.

It all looks utterly depressing. Everything so gray and white and blank.

When his father died, Nathan had been too busy shaking people's hand and nodding dumbly and numbly as they murmured their condolences. He couldn't remember how the chapel look liked. He couldn't remember the faces of the people who had been there. It's funny (although definitely not in the haha-knee slapping way) how the only thing he remembers about his father's funeral was the cloying smell of flowers and how brightly colored they all were, a stark contrast to all the dark gray suits moving before him in a blur.

He kills the engine and sits there, staring at the chapel. His brother is there and Nathan realizes sadly that he's never really thought of Lucas as brother. He had always been more like a rival - a constant, permanent rival - and he regrets it almost as bitterly as he regrets the night he last spoke with Dan. Father and son had been so incredibly angry at each other, at themselves that every word that came out of their mouths was harsh, painful, brutal. They felt like punches, only, they were just words. Easily taken back, if only they both hadn't been so stubborn.

_Like father like son._

Jake and Tim seems to be waiting for him to say something but he honestly does not know what he's supposed to say so they just silently sit and wait.

"Nice charming little chapel." Tim observes conversationally and Nathan hears and feels Jake's shoes solidly connecting with the back of Tim's seat. He ignores them, keeps a close watch at the building spilling with people of all ages, wearing black suits and dresses.

Nathan suddenly realizes that they're dressed horribly wrong for this. He's wearing a faded Duke sweatshirt, Tim is wearing a ridiculous lime green shirt with the words Jock spelled in Latin letters – or so he says. Jake's probably the only one who looks decent enough but they're definitely going to stand out in the sea of mourning black.

"Man, look at all those people." Tim whispers in awe.

There are more people here than on his father's funeral, Nathan thinks almost automatically. And that says a lot, considering his father once held office as the mayor of Tree Hill. It was the year they've won state championship and Nathan had a feeling that the golden trophy encased in a glass cabinet with words: 'Tree Hill High North Carolina State Champions 2007' had something to do with his father getting voted as mayor. It was both a scary and ridiculous thought, one that he didn't really bothered himself with because if Tree Hill wanted a mayor that had abandoned his then pregnant girlfriend and then his very own first born son, well, fuck, it wasn't his problem anymore.

"How many people do you think came here for your... I mean, for Puke, I mean for you know... _him_." Tim reluctantly whispers the last word.

"Jesus, Tim." Jake mutters exasperatedly behind them.

Nathan pretends not to hear them as he scans the crowd before them. Close to a hundred. Maybe even more. He does the estimate all inside his head, ignoring Tim and Jake who were yet again bickering over... well, God knows what. There is something so wrong and totally unnerving about the way Tim and Jake would constantly argue. Like they were an old married couple. Nathan lets out a small chuckle of amusement, still keeping his eyes on the small chapel. More cars are coming in, parking and slamming their doors shut. He keeps his eyes trained on the fluttering of black dresses and stiff jackets everywhere. More than a hundred, he decides.

Well, well, Nathan thinks not unkindly, the son, who had lived half the life of his father seemed to have left a better legacy. Guess it's never really about how many scores you made in a high school basketball game, or how much power you wielded, or how old you are to have actually touched people's life. Or at least touched them in a way that would make them want to come to your funeral in black swarms of tears and regrets. He couldn't remember anyone from his father's funeral coming over to him and telling him that his father was a great guy. Every one of them said that they were sorry and that his father will be missed and man, wasn't he one of the most amazing basketball player ever in Tree Hill?

Not even the greatest. Nathan is pretty sure Dan was regretting that he's dead, unable to say anything about the public opinion. Nathan wonders if his dad will be as upset that no one ever told him that he was a great father or that Dan had been a great friend to them.

Not one.

That was the saddest thing about his father's death.

That and the fact that he hadn't even bothered telling them that Dan had been a good father to him. No matter what they might say and what he might feel, it still didn't change the fact that Dan wanted the best for him. Or at least what he thought was the best for him and let it never be said that Dan didn't push and push and push him some more to be a great basketball player. Nathan owed it all to his father. His skills, everything that he had accomplished in the court it was because of his dad.

 _Dad._ It had been such a long time since he had thought of Dan Scott as his dad.

"Are we gonna just stay here or what?" Tim asks switching his glance from Nathan to Jake and then back to Nathan again.

Nathan doesn't answer. He doesn't even know if he wants to go in. Tim's right. What is he going to say once he's inside? _Excuse me, hi, I'm Nathan Scott. I'm the son Dan Scott chose over him. I'm sorry_.

"Nate, we gotta go in or we'll look like creepy stalkers." Tim looks pleadingly at him and when Nathan doesn't say anything, he adds in a desperate voice: "At a _funeral_."

And Tim makes yet another valid point. Nathan shakes his head. Will wonders never cease? He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for... for, fuck if he knows. "Yeah, yeah, ok." He opens his door and steps out, looking around. He tries not to act or feel like it, but he can't help it. He's feeling not only severely out of place but also painfully guilty.

His brother is a popular guy, he thinks once again, trying to distract himself as he began counting the people lined up outside the chapel.

 _Was_ a popular guy, he corrects himself almost immediately.

Nathan takes a few tentative steps, wincing at the sound of the car door slamming shut. He turns his head to glare at Tim who quickly mouths the word "sorry", feebly raising his hands in apology before jogging over to him, bumping against his shoulder and almost stumbling down the path. Nathan starts to walk more briskly, leaving behind Tim and Jake behind.

Best to get over this as quickly as possible, Nathan thinks to himself, people die every day, it doesn't have to be such a big fucking _thing_. Every second, every minute, every hour someone loses someone. At this very moment, someone would lose a wife, a daughter, a son, a friend, a lover, a sister, a brother. It's a way of life. He has learned to accept that and besides, Nathan reasons out, this shouldn't be as painful. After all, Lucas has never really been a brother or a friend. This is like just saying goodbye to a stranger.

Nathan is almost at the door but he stops dead in his track as the dark heavy doors open up and there, in bright sunshine, with the blue, blue clouds hanging over them, Lucas's bronze casket is being carried out of the chapel.

"Shit." Someone mutters behind him and he isn't sure if it's Tim or Jake. Maybe it's even him. He must've spoken out loud.

" _Shit_." He mutters (again?) to himself, completely at lost for words. He wishes he could say something better than that, but what was there to say?

There is something heavy inside Nathan's chest and he is vaguely thankful that he didn't have any heart problems or else there's going to be a double funeral today and he's a long way from Tree Hill, the people here might just decide to bury him with his older brother, maybe then they'd find something to bond about. Being dead.

Fuck. He should not be thinking this way. Nathan shakes his head, averts his eyes and stares hard at the pallbearers instead. There are four guys carrying his Lucas's casket. Two on each side. Two of them are vaguely familiar. Must be Lucas' old high school teammates. Nathan must have played against them at one point in his life. One of them is his long lost uncle Keith. The uncle he never knew. The uncle his father had banned from the house, the uncle who was more than happy to escape the ever suffocating family history of brothers hating brothers.

His uncle doesn't see him and Nathan thinks that if Keith does see him, he wouldn't recognize him anyway, after all the last time they saw each other was the Christmas before he became officially part of the senior varsity team. Keith had given him a present wrapped in royal blue paper and his father had thrown it out, must have set fire on it because when Nathan had tried looking for it after dinner, there was no trace of that gift, just semi-charred blue-black papers sitting at the bottom of the trash can. When Dan Scott gets rid of someone in his life, he does it precisely, cleanly, erasing all traces of that person, and it was as if he or she or they had never existed in the first place.

His father could be a cruel son of a bitch sometimes.

Nathan ducks his head low. If Keith did recognize him, he might ask him to leave. The last thing Nathan wants is to create a scene. He bows his head even lower and he tries to offer a small prayer of something. Something like regret or sorrow or love but nothing comes to him.

The heaviness in his chest doubles and he is suddenly slammed by the memory of how heavy his dad's coffin had been. When they got home, he found his hand marked with dark red blisters and nothing could get rid of it, not even when he had buried his hand inside a bucketful of ice, wincing at the cold and at the pain that strangely enough, would not come.

Nathan had not been able to say goodbye his father and now to Lucas too. He feels his heart hammering against his chest. He clenches his jaws so tightly that his whole face starts to hurt. How could he say goodbye when he barely even said hello to Lucas? Barely even politely acknowledged him?

"Hello, Lucas." Nathan mumbles as the pallbearers and his brother passed by him. "Good bye, Lucas."


	4. Four

**_Four_ **

They're all under a shade of some old, massive tree. Nathan has no idea what sort of tree this is, he isn't exactly a garden and plant person but it's huge and provided enough shade for all three of them. Tim and Jake are leaning heavily on the tree, looking around, purposely avoiding each other's eyes. This has been the most silent Tim has been in a long time and Nathan is almost amused by this and he would've certainly made some comment already if it weren't for the fact that this isn’t the place and time to be smirking and being a smart ass.

He's a standing solemnly away from them. A lone, solitary figure, arms tightly crossed against his chest, feet parted wide apart. From a far, he looks almost angry and glowering but he is neither. He's just there and not there all at the same time. It's possible, Nathan thinks to himself, to forget about the past, avoid it, disregard it and carelessly toss it aside. At least for a certain amount of time. And then it catches up to you and you're taken by surprise, the suddenness of it all. The past is all around him, overwhelming, inescapable. He wonders briefly why even though his throat feels as though it's burning, the tears still won't come. And if they did come, it certainly isn't for Lucas or his father. It would be for something that he had lost along the way, something that might have been precious to him, if only he knew what that is.

Around them, the sun is still shining brightly, warmly. It's not the best day to die or to say goodbye, Nathan notes. The sky isn't gray and weeping. It's impossibly blue, the birds twittering and chirping about. The few remaining people trickling out of the chapel, all wearing black, also looks out of place. Wrong. Not at all right. They watch silently as Lucas's family and friends (long lost, old, and new) say goodbye to each other, tearfully hugging and clutching one other. It's almost like a scene at the airport, except this time, the one who left is never ever going to come back.

Nathan spots Karen almost immediately. She's a small woman; dark haired and calm. She's standing alone, apart from the crowd and if you're an outsider, looking in, just like Nathan, watching this unfold before you, you'd immediately know that she's the grieving mother. You'd sense it from the eerie blank look on her face and the constant stream of tears running down her cheeks, tears she doesn't even seem to be aware of. People are stopping by her side giving her long, bone-crushing hugs, solemn pats on the shoulder, and watery, salty kisses on her cheeks.

For a brief moment Nathan is overwhelmed by the sudden urge to come up to her and hug her and apologize for everything. She didn't have to know who he is and maybe if he says sorry, maybe everything would start to be okay. Or maybe he could tell Lucas's mom that sometimes he feels like he's also dead. At least almost, little bit dead anyway. He could definitely tell her that instead of just ' _I'm sorry_ ' which is so pathetic and flimsy and just plain worthless.

_If it's any consolation, Ms. Roe, my mother thinks she has already lost me as well._

Maybe that'll make her feel a little bit better.

"Nate?"

Nathan's hands are shaking and it's unnerving, seeing the tremors running through his fingers. He quickly shoves his hands inside his jeans. "C'mmon." He practically barks, shaking his head at his own stupidity. What did he think? That he could just easily walk in and ask to be a part of this - well, whatever the hell this is? Everyone who had secretly leered and sneered at him in high school, all of those who thought of him as nothing but a dumb jock - damn good one maybe, but he was still dumb - well, they were all vindicated today. He could not believe that he had driven all the way here only to find, nothing really. Nothing new anyway. "Let's get outta here." He quickly steps back, sharply turning around, fighting the urge to run back to his car.

"Wha-?" Tim makes a clumsy about face, walking stiff as a board.

Nathan hears Jake muttering behind him but he ignores him. He keeps his stare straight ahead, he imagines the car as the basket, the goal. He needs to reach his car as soon as possible - sooner than this - dammit, did he have to park so far away from the chapel? He keeps his stride long and quick, Jake's muttering fading as he moves forward, forward... just a few more steps, just a few more...

"Hey, hey wait." A girl calls out to them and Nathan almost pitches forward as his own two feet impossibly gets tangled together. Clumsy. This is quickly becoming a real bad day. He has never been clumsy ever.

"Hey, _stop_!" The voice orders and he plants his feet firmly on the ground, even though every part of him is screaming to just forget it, go, run for it. How stupid would he look if he did just that? Thankfully, despite the mental screams and command to go forward, his feet stays put. He feels his heart suddenly banging against his chest. He pauses for a few second, takes a deep breath and then slowly turns around, so does Tim and Jake who both look like they’re having some sort of really, really weird nightmare together.

"Nathan?"

He blinks twice, thrice and he thinks that he must be hallucinating. There is just no way. No freaking way. But the girl before him does not disappear. She stares up at him, her eyes wide and confused. Questioning. He sees his eyes reflected in hers, their expressions mirroring each other. He swallows hard and finally finds his voice: "Peyton?"

The Peyton Illusion does not waver. She is still standing in front of him and Nathan's heart returns to its normal, almost sluggish beating as soon as he realizes that she's real and not some guilt ridden apparition that he had conjured up. She is certainly the last person Nathan ever thought he'd see here. It's almost funny how just this morning he was thinking about her and now here she is, looking like she had changed and not changed at all. She's wearing the same black leather jacket that she always wore - a gift from her mom, that much he knows, probably the only thing he knows about Peyton's mom. He glances down and sure enough, she's also wearing the same old black skirt that always goes with that jacket. And, of course, don't forget the faded, worn out black boots.

He brings his eyes backs up at her face. Her mouth still has that slanted angry look that never quite disappears, that is until she smiles, which she rarely ever does. She has cut her hair though. Its shorter now and lot curlier than the last time he saw her. She looks up at him, meets his scrutinizing gaze and Nathan suddenly remember being with her and its odd, how he feels as though it had happened so many lifetimes ago. It's like a memory of a memory of a memory and if he starts to really think about it, the Nathan who dated Peyton then is nowhere near the Nathan who is standing in front of her now. The Nathan then would've smirked at her, leaned down real low so he could skim his lips across her cheeks so he could ask her, "You stalking me now Peyt?"

The Nathan now, he merely nods his head before taking a step back, darting his eyes to where he spotted Karen earlier. She's gone and he is definitely sorry that he never got to tell her anything at all. Shaking his head, unsure of why he is suddenly filled with regret, he turns his attention back to Peyton and watches silently as Tim and Jake say their brief hello's and the customary, "How have you been doing?"

"Not well." Peyton replies in a voice that didn't sound like her at all: small and soft.

But before Nathan could ask her anymore, she goes on to explain that after their long-overdue break up, she moved here to Oak Lake to be with a cousin or something.

Peyton is full of surprises today. She's shaking her head as she tells them how she's been living here for a more than a year now. She's actually a part time music teacher at some private school for the incredibly rich and impossibly bratty kids.

Nathan raises his eyebrows at this, pictures Peyton surrounded by bored eight years old and he isn't quite sure who he's more sorry for, Peyton or all those little kids who's being forced to listen to The Buzzcocks and The Sex Pistols.

For a moment Peyton seems to be on the verge of smiling but then the sudden tolling of the bells seemed to have reminded her where she is and her mouth slants downward again. She shakes her head, blonde curls springing about, not long enough now to send them flying about. Those long-ago golden flying curls that Nathan had thought to be so... girly. "What are you guys doing here?" She finally asks frowning, looking both curious and confused.

Tim and Jake open their mouths, silently moving their jaws in some phantom, elaborate wordless explanation, before snapping it shut. For some reason, they're both channelling each other as they both immediately start making futile hand gestures before simultaneously dropping their hands like dead weights and then finally, pointedly turning to look at Nathan, as though he has all the answers.

Great. Nathan slightly winces. Right now he can't figure out how he could even possibly start to answer that question. He's been asking the same thing ever since he walked out of the café and he still hasn't decided on what his possible reasons could be for being here.

Because Lucas, the brother that he never knew, is dead.

Because he is desperate to do the right thing. For once.

"So you know Lucas, then?" Peyton mournfully asks them, cutting through his thoughts.

Well-fuck- _what_?

"Wait, _you_ know Lucas?" Nathan asks, his eye brows rising.

Peyton frowns and nods her head. "Yeah, I do. How'd you know Lucas?"

"I well, I -" Nathan starts and then feels his blood growing cold at the sudden realization that he had never, not once told Peyton about Lucas. There was a brief mention of a half-brother but never a name, never a face. But it's not like he carries around a picture of Lucas inside his wallet wherever he went. It's not like he wanted to discuss Lucas with his girlfriend. Actually, to be painfully, brutally honest, it's not like he and Peyton ever engaged in any sort of serious conversation at all, at least not outside of the 'are we breaking up or are we getting back together again' topic that they just seem to never get past.

If they were not arguing over Peyton's PMS-ing or Nathan's apparent, inherent assiness, they were making out or having sex. And when would it have been the right time to bring up the topic of an abandoned child who also happened to be his half-brother?

_"Oh, wow, Peyton, yeah, do that again, by the way, I have a half-brother named Lucas, would you like to know more about him?"_

Nathan immediately cringes at this. The inner workings of his relationship with Peyton had been: if they were both in a good mood, they made each other feel good; otherwise, they tend to agree to not see each other at all, unless they wanted another round of inane fighting. Or sex. These were pretty much the basic foundation of their year-long relationship.

"Nate?"

Nathan winces as he finds himself unable to answer Peyton. He is more than sufficiently guilty and painfully embarrassed by this rather blatant omission and he is suddenly curious if Lucas has ever told anyone about him. Had Lucas also decided to never mention the fact that there were two kids and two women and that his bastard of a father had chosen the other family? Had Lucas also chosen to deny the existence of a younger half-brother? Had he been shamed to do it? Driven by anger and resentment? After all, hadn't Nathan felt all of those too? How different had it been for Lucas? Or maybe the question really is, how much do they actually have in common, him and Lucas?

"Well?" That familiar exasperated tone.

"Yes."

"No."

"Not really."

They all answer all at the same time, words overlapping each other. Peyton's frown deepens and Jake immediately starts clearing his throat and following suit, Tim starts coughing loudly. Nathan cannot help it, he winces one more time and shakes his head, trying his best to avoid Peyton's piercing stare.

"Well, kind of not really." Tim says after a few second of throat-clearing, coughing filled semi-silence.

And could this get any more awkward? Nathan thinks to himself, sucking in a deep breath.

Jake is quick to take control of the situation. "Could you guys excuse us for a sec?" He asks grabbing Tim by the arm. "I think I forgot something in the car." And he then proceeds to drag Tim away.

Peyton raises her eyebrows, crosses her arms against her chest. She looks back up at him again, her mouth twisting in that little frown. That familiar looking frown. And Nathan feels himself being suck back in time, where everything with Peyton was possible argument material, where he couldn't do anything right and he was bound to disappoint her one way or another. And really, with the kind of day he's having, he isn't surprised anymore why he actually stumbled upon her, today of all days. He waits for the accusation or the interrogation, whichever comes first. He's always been a very bad liar and Peyton just had a way of making him want to lie rather than tell her the truth and anyway, the truth had always been far, far worse than the lie.

_Do you love me Nate? Did you ever really love me at all?_

Lie: Of course I do! Of course I did!

Truth: I care about you Peyt, I do. Really. But... but that's all.

Part of the trouble was he kept on telling her that lie until it became somewhat of a truth to him. But then again, ask anyone, no lie is going to sound better than that awful, awful truth. Because Nathan knows now, as he had known before, of all the girls he had ever dated, he and Peyton did have some sort of a connection - at least they did at first - but whatever that might have led to, well, obviously, it went nowhere. And most of the blame admittedly was on him. He was just too damn full of himself and of his dreams to ever really appreciate the beauty of that possibility, of that what-might-have-been that he had so willingly, knowingly, casually tossed aside.

Nathan does not regret it now. He's gone past all that. He's just sorry with the way he had treated Peyton when they had been together. A lot of times, he wishes he could take it all back. They could've have been friends at the very least.

Peyton squints her eyes up at him and Nathan might not know it but she's also feeling a little bit sorry herself. Nathan probably didn't deserve a lot of the drama that she had put him - put _them_ \- through. She was young back then, confused about love. She had thought that maybe she loved him, was in love with him when the truth was she was in love with the idea of not even love but of desire, of need and of want. They had a lot of that in their relationship but nothing of the basic fundamentals of love. Like trust and patience and tenderness and maybe even friendship. She and Nathan had never been friends at all - even when they were dating. They were just that: dating. All the benefits, without the friendship.

Peyton tilts her head before gently shaking it, as though to clear it from cobwebs. She certainly hadn't expected to see Nathan, of all people, at Lucas's funeral and yet here he is now, in front of her and nothing had changed about him at all.

Well, Peyton reconsiders, at least not physically. Same startling baby blue eyes, same dark hair, a lot shorter now than before when he wore it long; infuriatingly almost past the collar of his shirts. He is still so tall. And so beautiful. She might forget a lot of things about Nathan but never the fact that he's still the most beautiful boy - now a man - that she has ever met.

At first, when she saw him by the chapel door, she thought she had been hallucinating. Had been thinking too much about pain and regret and broken hearts that she had unconsciously conjured the image of the boy who used to best represent all those emotions. Peyton had thought that the wavering, watery image of Nathan standing by the tree, looking so lost and so... _angry_ was the product of her tears, of her many sleepless nights, of her pain and confusion. Peyton had definitely thought that she was probably losing her mind, grief certainly had a way of doing that but when she called out to him and when he looked back at her as though she was an apparition herself, she knew that this Nathan was real.

Except... well, except, obviously, this isn't the old Nathan that she knew. There was something different about him now. Something that she could not quite pin point, describe. Something that eluded her.

But then again, hadn't Nathan always eluded her?

She could still remember all those misguided months of trying to make their relationship work and failing miserably at it. Up to this date, she still could not understand why it had taken her so long to finally admit that she and Nathan were just never meant to be. It must have been her pride and her damn stubborn streak and ok, yeah, he was a good (amazing, actually) kisser and when he wants to be, he could be a real nice, sweet, decent guy.

And therein lay the problem.

Nathan doesn't seem to want to be that kind of guy. At least not consistently with her. And what was she supposed to do with that? She certainly wasn't going to let him treat her like crap. She had been willing to be patient, would tell herself that every time: Patience, Peyton, he just needs time to find himself, because she always knew that he could be so much better, so much kinder. But he just wouldn't shed that second skin and he was always more about being an arrogant jock that deserves to get all the attention. All the female attention. All the coaches' attention. The other players. His own teammates. His parents. The local media. Sometimes, even the national press especially when he played so brilliantly during basketball finals. Everyone, except her it seemed.

The sad part is that their relationship had not always been like that, it just sort of deteriorated over time until all she could remember from her relationship with Nathan was a flimsy string of one night stands all thrown together. Or at least a lot of intense arguments that always lead to either a break up or more sex.

Attraction is a funny thing, especially when it's mistaken for love.

"So you kind of know Lucas." Peyton states, obviously this time, waiting for a reply, one that did not involve hand gestures.

"Yeah. Sort of." Nathan answers finally, evasively, rubbing his temples. He glances back at Tim and Jake who were hanging back a few steps away from them. He lets out a sigh and gestures them to come over. With any luck, Peyton might just think that they were stoned or drunk or both as they had been most of their college lives and hopefully, she'll just have to ask them to leave, which at this point Nathan is more than willing to do. He had tried to see his brother. He had done his duty. A little half-assed but still, it's more than what the old Nathan would have done.

"We kicked their ass, senior state championship." Tim blurts out as soon as he re-joins Nathan and Peyton. And then, seeing the horrified disbelieving expression on Jake's face, Tim stutters and chokes out an apology: "Oh, crap, crap, sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that way. I meant, we just... kind of... scored better than them."

Nathan isn't sure if he's painfully amused or just in pain. He ducks his head, stares at the ground, at the tips of his worn out hundred dollar basketball shoes - a gift from Dan. One of his last gifts. Funny how these things seem to last longer than a person or a feeling for that matter.

Peyton finally lets out a chuckle of sorts and Nathan raises his head in time to watch her ruefully shake her blonde curls. "Basketball." She mumbles, "I should have known." She stares at Nathan and smiles her few rare smiles, "Well," she pauses as though deep in thought and then, gently she adds, "it's nice of you to come." She states this sincerely and Nathan is oddly touched by this.

"Peyton!" Someone calls and they all turn to look at a girl with dark hair wearing even darker sunglasses. She's wearing nothing but the color black. "C'mmon!" She tilts her head over to the moving procession of black cars all heading towards the cemetery.

Peyton clears her throat, "Okay, Brooke, just a sec." She mutters something, too low for Nathan to hear and he watches silently as she brings her hand to her face, slightly covering her eyes as she pauses to stare out into the horizon, biting her lips. She takes in a deep breath. "Everyone's heading at Karen's place after... after..." She seems to choke on the word and she gives up at trying to say it out loud, wincing a little. "You guys should come."

Another deep breath. Nathan notices her hand clasping and twisting in front of her. He catches the nervous glances that Tim and Jake were throwing at him. He's had enough tearful break ups to know what's coming next and yet he doesn't make a move. He stays in place, a good, safe distance away from Peyton's shaking form and he's feeling his stomach clenching almost painfully. It hasn't escaped his notice. The way Peyton is talking about Karen and Lucas. As though she knows them intimately and there is something disconcerting about that.

"Karen would appreciate it. I'm sure Lucas would too." Peyton tells them, her voice cracking at the last words, especially at Lucas's name. "He loved basketball and everyone who loved it." She smiles bravely, proudly. She swallows hard before continuing, "There's gonna be a couple of guys from his high school team, but it was all so sudden, we hadn't been able to get in touch with everyone." She explains, her voice suddenly sounding watery. "I... you... he..." And before they could even say anything, Peyton starts to cry. It's the quiet kind of crying, just bowed head and silence.

Tim and Jake grimaces. They were never really good at this. Trying to placate a crying little girl was Jake's only experience and he doubts if Peyton would feel any better if he starts dangling and jiggling his keys in front of her to distract her from her tears.

"Hey, now, don't cry." Tim says reaching into his pocket and finding a crumpled tissue paper from the café back in Tree Hill. "Here, here, take this." He says gently, offering the tissue which Peyton gratefully takes from him. She mumbles a thank you as both Tim and Jake stare at Nathan, obviously waiting for him to do something. After all, he is the ex-boyfriend and this is his brother's funeral.

Nathan isn't sure if he's supposed to hold her or just let her have her space. He wonders yet again what Peyton could be doing here and how she's connected to his half-brother. It's a freakingly small world, he thinks, if you find your ex-girlfriend bawling her eyes out at your estranged dead half-brother's funeral. A very, very small world, he concludes uneasily.

Jake and Tim continue to stare at him and he feels their stares burning a hole right through his head. "Peyton," He starts, more out of guilt, half-heartedly reaching out to her. He isn't sure if he's still allowed to hold her and she might just pull away from her. Peyton was not the kind of girl who let anyone see her cry or even comfort her. This is something that he hadn't expected from her. But then, people change. It's as simple as that. Whether it's because of a death of a father or a friend, people change in ways both understandable and unsettling.

"No, I'm okay. I'm okay." Her voice is muffled by her hands as she quickly wipes her eyes, carefully dabbing it with Tim's crumpled tissue. After a few more seconds, she straightens up, tilts her head to look at him and then, "Please come."

"No, it's ok." Nathan takes an almost panicked step back. It's been an emotional train wreck of a day and he isn't really looking forward to extending it up to Lucas's wake. And into Lucas's house as well.

"Please." Peyton begs, "His mom would appreciate it." She repeats in the same unfamiliar pleading voice. "She wants to hear all about Lucas from his friends."

_Friends._

He isn't even that. And what would he tell Lucas's mom? That he's part of the reason why they had to move away from Tree Hill? Nathan takes a deep, painful breath.

"Peyt!"

She turns towards the girl, who is now impatiently tapping her foot on the ground. "I... Just a sec." Peyton tells her and then, glancing back at Nathan, "Don't leave."

They watch as Peyton went over to the girl in black, reaching out to her and clutching her hands. She's saying something and her friend obviously isn't liking it. More drama, the boys think as they watch the brunette stalk off. Peyton stands there for a full second, watching after the girl as she gets into a car and drives off. She comes over to them, biting her lips, her red-rimmed eyes still swimming with tears.

"I can't... I just can't." She explains brokenly to no one in particular and Nathan has a strange feeling that the words were more for her than for any one of them. She swallows hard, takes a deep breath. "Can I get a ride with you guys to Lucas's place?"

Nathan looks around and sees that there were still cars parked in front of the chapel. The old Nathan, the younger one, the one with all the bright dreams and future sitting at the palm of his hand would have told Peyton to get a ride from someone else. He has no reason to be at Lucas's wake and he didn't even intend to go there. There was nothing there for him but more regrets and he already has a baggage full of those. But as he returns his stare at Peyton and her green eyes and her tear stained face, Nathan thinks back on the day he first saw her, walking at the campus, her blonde hair shining and glowing. He remembers the way she always used to smirk at him when he says that he's going to love her forever, like she knew that it's nothing but an empty promise. Nathan thinks of how sad she looks now and how maybe, this could be his last and only chance of not being an ass to her.

And maybe, hopefully, if he finally faces up to this particular past - his father's past - that's been hounding him ever since he could remember, maybe he'd finally be rid of it. Be set free from it. So he takes a deep breath and wordlessly nods his head.

Nathan is almost thankful that Peyton had decided to skip going to the cemetery. He already knows what to expect there. More tears and flowers and sad, beautiful, empty words of goodbye. He tries to forget it, but it's stuck inside his head: the hollowed, final sound as clumps of dark soil hits the wooden coffin; the final thudding sound, almost like the last, fading heartbeat. It's echoing inside his head now as he drives silently, weaving in and out of unfamiliar streets until Peyton tells him to stop.

They park a few blocks away from a typical two-story home. It's nothing special. It isn't big, not at all like the palatial estate of the Scotts of Tree Hill but it certainly looks like a home well-lived in. There's a porch and a porch swing with a brown quilt draped over it, the curtains are pale green and fluttering gently from open windows. There's no space for a basketball court at the back or a swimming pool or even a mini-gym but it looks almost warm and inviting. The kind of place that Nathan had always thought a home should look like.

"Lotsa folks here." Jake observes, frowning when he realizes that this particular observation has been observed and noted more than enough times already and it's like he's comparing one utterly different funeral from another. It isn't right and he's suddenly wishing that he hadn't pointed it out. No wait, he wishes that he hadn't here to actually see it at all in the first place. Maybe Tim was right. Maybe he should not have given Nathan the newspaper. There's a history between the brothers far too deep and far too complex and death only messes everything that's already been messed up to begin with.

Peyton smiles wistfully. "Lucas was a great guy. Everyone loved him. C'mmon." She says, getting out of the car.

Nathan wordlessly follows her. It's not a quilt, he realizes as he got closer. It's a poncho. And an ugly assed one at that. The color is dark moss green and it looks as though it's a permanent fixture in the porch, like the coffee cup stains on the floor and on the wooden steps. Here is a house where people actually stayed in, had early morning or perhaps even late night conversations, a cup of coffee shared. He could see Karen and Lucas sitting by the porch: mother and son, alone together, abandoned by his father.

He thinks of his own mother who had, all his life, avoided their house. And even when Dan died, Deb still couldn't stand to stay inside her own home: Too big. Too silent. Too many memories. It makes her want to drink.

His mother has all the excuses in the world. It's ok though. Nathan is certainly used to it. When he was younger, his mother's way of dealing with Dan's obsession with control was to work as many hours and days and nights as she possibly can; the farther away from Tree Hill, the better. And when his father died, when his mom realized that she doesn't even recognize her own son anymore, the only way to deal with her grief was more mind numbing work.

Nathan doesn't blame her, doesn't resent her for it. She married Dan Scott. What did he expect? Besides, honestly, he thinks that throwing herself at work is better than drowning her sorrows with alcohol or sleeping through them.

He tells himself that every day.

Peyton starts to lead the way and is occasionally stopped as people offered more murmured words of condolences.

Tim, Nathan and Jake exchange looks.

"Bizarre-O." Tim mutters underneath his breath, loud enough for Nathan and Jake to hear. They both wordlessly, without warning, soundly thwack him at the back of head.

"Owww. What the hell?" Tim is immediately silenced as Nathan and Jake sends him their fiercest glare.

They all remain silent up until the front door, where Nathan pauses briefly before following Peyton in, squaring his shoulders as though preparing for a brutal game.

"He really is doing this." Tim says after a few seconds, watching as Nathan enters the house, his Duke sweatshirt swallowed by the black dresses and suits.

"I guess he really is." Jake confirms.

"I'm so proud of him." Tim says tearfully as he very gingerly place his hand on his chest, where his heart is, looking almost quite emotional. And demented.

Jake looks at him frowning, "Dude, you're weird." He gives Tim one last look before bounding up the stairs, looking for Nathan.

"Hey wait up!" Tim calls out loudly, apologizing as some of the people turned to look at him. "We played basketball together, Lucas and I did. I was from the other team and... yeah, okay." He mumbles away, ducking his head and going inside the house.

"Were you guys close?" Peyton is asking Nathan as they stood by the door.

Nathan shakes his head, shrugging. "No, just played a couple of games." He shifts from one foot to another, completely feeling so painfully out of place. He feels small. For the first time in his life, he feels small. Wishes that he is small. Or at least smaller. He wants to turn back and just forget about this day. He desperately wants to just disappear. Is everyone looking at him? At them? Or just Peyton? Why would they be looking at them?

Shit. He's getting paranoid. He swallows hard and takes in a deep, deep breath, filling his lungs with much needed air. He's barely stepped inside the house and yet he already feels the wrongness of being here. He does not belong here at all.

"He's a good player. Nice lay ups." Tim says from behind them.

"Tim," Jake interrupts before Tim says anything stupid, "You're thirsty right?"

Tim quickly gives Jake a 'what the hell are you talking about look'. " _Huh_?"

"The kitchen is down the hall, turn right." Peyton says nodding towards the hallway and for the second time that day Jake and Tim makes their exit. Peyton frowns and looks at Nathan. "I've always wanted to ask, you know, even when we were dating, I just didn't want to get your hackles raised..."

All the air that Nathan had just sucked in, rushes out in one painful breath. Nathan feels his heart thumping madly against his rib cage. "Yeah, what?"

Peyton twists her mouth in frown-smile. She pauses, uncertain and then in a cautious voice, she asks, "Is Tim, like, gay or something?"

Nathan almost laughs out loud, but he remembers where he is and why he is here, he sobers up a little and shakes his head no.

"Funny. He's got a bit of that vibe." Peyton murmurs, still looking quite doubtful.

"So, ugh, how do you know Lucas?" He forgot to ask her this.

Peyton looks up at him and it's her turn to blink. Her green eyes is even more startlingly green and Nathan realizes that it's because of her tears. "Lucas, is my boyfriend." She tells him and then wincing, biting her lips, she corrects herself. "Was my boyfriend."

Nathan feels like he's been sucker punched. Like Peyton had kicked his whole world upside down, and now it’s tipping it over, rolling into the edge and is now currently free falling into the Land of What the Fuck?

"We've been dating for almost a year now." Peyton continues, completely oblivious to his reaction. "We've been together until... until he died."

Nathan numbly nods his head. Way beyond Bizarre-O now.


	5. Five - Interlude

**_Five - Interlude_ **

You cut off ties, never look back and move on. Life is like that. Can't get stuck, not to a place, a time, a moment, a dream, a feeling, a person. Life continues on, even until after you've breathed your last breath, everything else moves forward. It's has to. And yet no matter how far you've gotten yourself, far away from that past, from that person you've left behind or the one that left you behind, there's always that small part of you that wonders every now and then: How does the other world, the other half live?

Lucas hadn't exactly been thrilled with the move. He already had friends in Tree Hill. He already knew where the best ice cream shop was, the best bookstore, the best places to hide at the playground, the neat little shortcut that led towards the Rivercourt; that small dirt road that he had walked on every day, alone with his thoughts, hoping that he didn't have to run into his arrogant, angry little half-brother.

And this inevitably led him to the most important thing of all: he had already gotten used to the fact that he had an arrogant, angry little half-brother.

To be honest, he had gone beyond getting used to it. He had already accepted it and had been quite okay with the whole thing. Well, as okay as one would expect from a thirteen year old boy who had grown up in a home where no lies were ever told and everything is out in the open, discussed any time he wanted it to be talked about. His mom had always been willing to answer any and all of his questions – this kind of honesty, made him not at all like the ordinary thirteen year old boys.

The night his mom told him of her plans, she had patiently answered when he asked the many whys of this decision. And while Lucas heard and accepted her answers, what he never told his mom was that he didn't understand why it _always_ had to be them.

Why were they always sacrificing _their_ happiness? Even at his young age, Lucas felt that it wasn't right, that it wasn't fair at all. But he kept it all to himself. It was the first, the last and the only thing that Lucas never told his mom. And besides, he knew that even if had voiced out his feelings, he was certain that there was no talking his mother out of leaving their home. This was the woman who had decided to have a son, with or without Dan, with or without the support of her parents. When Karen Roe decides on something, there was nothing in the world that can stop her. And once she had gotten the idea of moving away, starting all over again, a clean slate for both of them, it was all that she could think about until she has finally actually _done_ it.

She was so determined to leave Tree Hill behind - the only home Lucas had ever known – it took her less than half a week to get a house in Oak Lake. Okay, certainly not the farthest place from Tree Hill, but it was, at least to Karen, a start.

Someday, they might move out of the state entirely. Somewhere far like Seattle or maybe even out of the country, New Zealand sounded nice to her, but for now Oak Lake would have to do.

* * *

There is only one Tree Hill, his mom told him once and now he was going to have to say goodbye to it. Lucas didn't want to. This was his one _true_ home. He had wanted to tell his mom but when she spoke of leaving; she had never been so fierce, never sounded so sure, so hopeful, and so adamant that Lucas immediately understood that was what was going to happen. It was final. They were going. That was it. No ifs and buts. _Goodbye, Tree Hill._

Packing their belongings had taken them less than a week. Karen made sure to leave everything that could be left behind. Everything that connected Karen to Tree Hill, she got rid of them. She no longer felt connected to that girl: the young Karen had long faded away from her memories. From here on, she could be anyone she wanted to be. And she wanted to be free from everything that tied her down to Tree Hill.

Lucas never uttered a word of complaint. He helped her every time she asked him to go carry out stuff and throw them away, even the old blue, black and white Ravens memorabilia that he secretly treasured. He didn't say 'I don't want to' or 'I have to have this!' when she told him that he can't take much of his belongings to their new home. Lucas just looked at her, listened to what she had to say, nodded his head and did as what was told.

That was her boy. Her blue eyed baby boy. Dan Scott might have gotten the better end of... well, whatever their misguided, obviously ill-fated high school romance had been; he might have gotten the better deal in life: the bigger house, better future, a blonde bombshell for a wife and another son. He might have everything that he had ever dreamt of and more but Karen got Lucas and everything else just didn't matter anymore.

As long as she had Lucas with her, everything was perfect. The rest, well they could learn to work on. They can and will cope with it. They were both good at that and as long as they had each other, it was all that mattered.

* * *

Oak Lake is slightly bigger than Tree Hill. It was friendlier, that was for sure. Especially to a hard working single mother who can cook up a storm: the sweetest desserts that would make your toes curl, that could make your head spin at the swirl of flavors – there was time when it was whispered among the halls of Oak Lake that if you wanted to win someone's heart, you have to buy them the strawberry cheesecake from Karen's Café.

It helped too that Karen had a kind, courteous, quick witted blue eyed boy whom everyone loved. They got along fine with their new neighbors and by the second week, Lucas could see just how much his mother had changed. She didn't look wary or sad anymore; instead, she always had a bright encouraging smile whenever he would mention how different Oak Lake was from Tree Hill.

Of course, what he'd always meant was that he missed Tree Hill already and that he absolutely hated it here. Here he was the new kid, where no one paid him any attention at all; at least no kid his age ever spared him a second glance. Here, it was as though he barely existed. He could get lost at night; find himself at the middle of any empty unfamiliar street, completely alone, completely scared. Tree Hill was better, even if it meant that he'd have to keep on ignoring Nathan and his stupid little taunts and his stupid friends who always joined in on the name calling.

But here also, his mother glowed and she laughed more often. By their third week, she had befriended almost all of their neighbors and had even invited guests over to their home for dinner. They never had anyone at their old house at Tree Hill. Except for his uncle Keith who'd regularly visit them but he was family so that really didn't count.

It took Lucas a while but he finally understood that here in Oak Lake, his mother didn't have to constantly worry about words being whispered behind their backs. At least not the hurtful kind of words, like maybe _pity_ or _abandoned_ or _bastard_.

The last word he'd learned from some of the older kids back in Tree Hill who used to hang out at the Rivercourt. They were okay. They let him play with them, had even taught him a few moves here and there – had even attested to the fact that he was a born player, had natural skills and instincts for basketball. One summer afternoon they told him what 'bastard' meant and he had always been slightly thankful that Nathan never had the chance to say that to him. Of course, Nathan didn't stop his friends from muttering the word as he passed by them; still, it would have been a whole lotta different thing if his own brother threw that word at him.

And that was probably the only reason why the move wasn't so bad. At least at the start it had been Lucas's only reason. It took him a while, but in time, he had learned to like Oak Lake and maybe even love it better than he loved Tree Hill.

* * *

In Oak Lake, he had gotten what he would have never even had in Tree Hill. A chance.

A chance to become who he's meant to be and not who or what the past of Tree Hill might dictate. Here, in Oak Lake, he found himself.

It wasn't easy; he was a new kid after all. It took him a while to put down roots and slowly grow into a man that his mother fervently wished he would become. Not just because the expectation had been set almost too high but because he had moments of doubts, moments when he had been unsure, lonely and friendless, walking to class alone, having lunch alone - almost always so awkwardly alone in everything.

Not so totally alone though, he had his books and they were his constant companions. If you went by Karen's Café – his mother had gotten the courage to invest some money and started a small café – if he wasn't doing the dishes and didn't have tables to clean or wait on, Lucas would be at sitting on a corner, nose buried in a book.

He read so much Karen bought an old book shelf and placed it right next to his own corner at the café. He filled them up with books that by the time he graduated from Oak Lake High, it was practically bursting with books of all kinds.

Lucas didn't make any friends in his first year in Oak Lake. It wasn't really until he started playing basketball with the kids his age and then with the junior and then the senior varsity team that he found his place. With no one urging him or pushing him, deciding all on his own, Lucas tried out for the team, got accepted and found his calling. His path.

At first, yes, it bothered him, scared him that this feels too much like the same path his father had lead, would've wanted him to lead had he been the chosen son, but he managed to shake those doubts off. This was his present and it was all his. Exactly the way Karen had wanted it to be the day she decided that it was time to put the past behind them.

Lucas had always known that his mother had wanted him to live a life that didn't have to be dragged down and constantly colored by her history in Tree Hill. It was something that she wanted to give him, something that he needed. His mom was a wise woman. Brave. Probably the bravest person in the whole world and Lucas loved her dearly. His mom was his everything.

Well, half of his everything. The other half belonged to his best friend whom he loved in ways that could not be possibly measured.

And well, okay, basketball too.

By the time he graduated in Oak Lake High, Lucas had everything that his mother had wanted for him. Everyone knew his name and it wasn't because he was Dan Scott's son or because he was Nathan Scott's older half-brother. It was simply because he was Lucas Scott and he was, as he had been when they first moved here, kind and smart and honest and always so polite. And it certainly helped that he was talented in basketball. And despite being part of the basketball team that had almost lead Oak Lake to the State Championship, he had still managed to graduate with honors.

He was popular with everyone. A local celebrity of sort. But more importantly, everyone and anyone in Oak Lake loved him. They treated them as though he was their own son, their older brother, a mentor, a friend. Karen could not have been any happier and though she couldn't be certain how Lucas' life would have turned out had they stayed in Tree Hill, seeing her son look so happy was enough for her to never ever regret packing up and leaving Tree Hill behind.

But no matter how perfect Lucas's life had been in Oak Lake, no matter how much he felt like he belonged here, a small part of him, the small ghost of a boy still wondered, still thought about it: What if they had stayed in Tree Hill?


	6. Six

**_Six_ **

Nathan stands at the farthest end of the Roe's receiving room. It's a small house and it's filled to its every corner. He stands there silently, keeps his eyes in front, hears snippets of conversations about how great of a guy Lucas was, how everyone had loved him, how badly he'll be missed, how he's always been so helpful and kind and how he had broken so many girls’ heart just 'cause he wasn't into leading them on and would tell them from the start that he only wanted to be friends with them. He had a way of saying it that it was even okay to be romantically rejected by him. There were pauses in between and Nathan realizes that it's because someone has to wipe their eyes or clench their jaws, clench their fist, look away, gather a few precious seconds to compose themselves, to not let the sorrow over come and choke them. There were mention of Lucas's basketball skills but very rarely, it was mostly about how he was such a gracious player, always the first one to shake the hands of the other team.

It's his turn to briefly look away and clench his jaws; teeth grinding against each other as he remembers the last time Lucas tried to shake his hand. It was the night the Ravens won the State Championship and when the hand was offered to him, Nathan had only stared at it long and hard before silently walking away. For some reason, even back then he already knew that everyone in Oak Lake thought so highly of Lucas - hell, everyone in Tree Hill still fondly remember Lucas and this honestly irritated him to no end. Lucas so pure and noble and then there he was, spawn of Dan Scott, arrogant, self-assured Tree Hill High Jackass of the Year. All he wanted was to be better than Lucas but he never quite got there. At least not at the pedestal Lucas had somehow gotten himself into. Hell, the guy could be canonized. Saint Lucas Scott, patron saint of Abandoned Sons.

Had Nathan been younger, he would've sneered at this but since the arrogance of his youth had long faded away, all he feels is the sharp tugging of real, burning envy. He wants to be better but for all the wrong season - so why bother?

He thinks back to that night and he knows that he would've gladly shook Lucas's hand, maybe even allowed a tight little smile, a slap on the back (not too affectionately, though) or maybe even the customary fist-bump. He would've done all that had Lucas not approached him when no one was watching them and not when Nathan had been the only one left standing on the court littered with a thousand colors that had rained on the mighty, mighty Tree Hill High Ravens. And without the audience he so desperately wanted, without anyone out there to see that he was capable of grace, of kindness - what was the point? He didn't bother then and now it's a little too late for that.

And well, that little anecdote from the past is certainly not the kind of story he would like to share. He lets out a humorless little chuckle and shakes his head. Nathan tries to think of a single moment in his life when he had acted with grace, had been decent enough, at least to Lucas and surprisingly, this one memory comes up, unbidden and sharp: it was the week before Lucas left Tree Hill and Nathan, aware of the floating, yet never really confirmed rumor, had spotted Lucas ambling towards the Rivercourt.

The slightly smaller, slightly older boy had been wearing the gray sweatshirt from his Uncle Keith's auto-shop. The name Scott proudly emblazoned at the back and seeing Lucas walking around town, wearing his - their - last name, it sent Nathan reeling and not in the angry way, more like in a ' _there he is, my brother_ ' kind of way. And he had wondered then - not the first time in his life - how it would be like to have Lucas as his brother, as part of his family. Would it be so awful?

At that very moment, he thought it didn't seem so bad at all.

Nathan thinks back to that afternoon, the sun fading quickly into the horizon, sinking over by the river and he ponders on how different it might have been if he had at least nodded at Lucas's direction, had at least given his older half-brother a half wave - a little something... _brotherly_.

He lets out a low growl, brings his hand to his temples and grimaces. Fuck. Fuck this. He's getting a fucking headache.

Regret is such a bitch.

Guilt is even worst.

He presses his back further into the wall, tries his best to hide, to stamp down the urge to go running out of the door. He's pushing his luck, he knows it. Any moment now, Keith or Karen will spot him and he doubts he's going to be welcomed with wide open arms.

Nathan looks furtively around. Just how long is someone supposed to stay at wake? Is thirty minutes polite enough? If he left now, would it be a tell-tale sign of a man fleeing from something awful, terrible? Like maybe regret. Or guilt. Or both? He shifts from one foot to the other, thinks it's pretty stupid how he doesn't know this sort of thing. He had been at his father's own wake after all and he had always thought that everyone had lingered until the very end, until their apologies had started to grate on his nerves and surely, there's like, a required minimum amount of time for grieving. Or at least for trying to grieve.

From his right side, he hears the door open, distracting him and Nathan frowns at the sound of fresh muttered, muted welcomes. More people are coming in and he has yet to see someone leaving. Great. Just great. He plants his feet firmly on the worn carpet, fiercely tells himself that since he's already here, he might as well do this the right way.

Just a few more minutes, he tells himself, repeating the phrase over and over inside his head, like some sort of mantra. A reminder to stay put, wait it out. Leave when it's polite to leave. After all, that's the least that he could do for Lucas.

"Dude, check out the hair." Tim says in a horribly loud voice, as he discreetly nods at Lucas's senior picture. Lucas is squinting at the camera; his white-blonde hair all gelled up, sticking up in tiny spikes.

"What man, you have like, the same hair now." Jake hisses and to be fair, Jake is truly being honest about it.

"I do not!' Tim says indignantly, quickly running his hand across his head, furiously flattening out said tiny-spikes.

Nathan tries his best to ignore them, but feels his lips curving a little.

"Dude, tell Jake my hair is so not like that." Tim whines at him and Jake is of no help either as he tries or ultimately fails to muffle his snickering.

"Shut up." Nathan tells them in a low voice, elbowing Tim sharply in the rib, immediately halting the unmanly giggle. He isn't sure which is more disturbing: that Tim and Jake are goofing around at a wake or that they were laughing in a completely, girly kind of way. Rolling his eyes at Tim's look of concern, he shifts his attention to a built-in cabinet at the far end of the room, very much like the one he has in their house. It has four rows in all, each one has gold and silver trophies proudly lined up and in between them were numerous mementos from Lucas's life - a little corner to tuck the memories away, although now, given the current situation, that little corner looks like a small impromptu shrine to Lucas.

Actually, Nathan pauses, looking around, check that. The whole house seems like a shrine to Lucas. Every corner has something of Lucas and Nathan almost half expects to see his brother suddenly walk into the hallway, pick up the discarded bag sitting on top of a stool, head over to the kitchen, take a drink from his mug, put on those battered pair of basketball shoes tucked underneath a table, grab the green and white jacket hanging at the coat and umbrella rack at the corner of the room, slip out of the house and gently close the door behind him - eyes squinted, like in the picture - all completely oblivious to everyone around him.

Nathan shakes his head, forcing the ghost-like image out of his brain.

This is shitfull, fucked up weird and he is suddenly desperate to get the hell out of here.

He can't do this. He's a stranger here. What the fuck had he been thinking? Strolling into the funeral, lurking at the wake. He doesn't know anyone here, especially not Lucas. And more than that, does he even have the right to be here? At all? He needs to get out of here. _Now_. He jerks to his right, takes the first tentative step forward and when he realizes that he could still move his feet, that he isn't forever stuck to this wake - as he sometimes often felt about his father's own wake, like he had never left that day at all - he wordlessly starts to walk away.

I'm going, I'm gone. He thinks, leaving Jake and Tim. That's right, just keeping his feet moving. It's like being on auto-pilot. One step forward. Right then left foot, then right again. He's breathing heavily, heart beat racing, pounding and with a wave of panic, he realizes that he's deeper into the house instead of getting out of it.

Fuck. He turns around, half blinded by the terrifying thought of walking into Karen or Keith. Being here is wrong. They'd be the first one to tell him that. He didn't want to have to face them. Or Peyton. Or anyone for that matter. And goddammit, where's the fucking door? Where's the _Exit to Madness_ sign?

The voices fades away, words wafting gently over to him and he thinks, well, shit, he can't go back there again, everyone would wonder where he'd been, so he decides to find the bathroom, instead. Yeah. Lock himself in there for a few minutes. Calm down a little. Splash some water into his face. Wake up from this dream.

He walks on, barely seeing anything. The hallway is dark, unfamiliar and then, finally, at the end of it, a slip of light. He practically runs toward it, blindly gropes the door knob, pushing it open.

Nathan half-stumbles inside, still breathing heavily. He silently shuts the door, presses his forehead against it and wills his heart rate to slow down. He does it like he used to whenever he gets really nervous about a basketball game. He takes huge, almost half-gasping breaths. He imagines the slow receding sounds of the roaring crowd just a step outside the locker rooms. He thinks of nothing but an empty court. No one there to watch and judge him, scrutinize his game in miniscule detail. No one to check if he's keeping his points right above his father's scoring records. No one screaming/jeering/cheering/cursing his name. No one. Just him. Just him and the empty court.

He starts to calm down. Somewhat. He shakes his head, furious at himself. So very fucking pissed that he had chosen this day to finally grow a conscience.

 _Add this to your many lists of bad ideas_. Nathan grits his teeth and shakes his head. Face it Scott, you're nothing but a trespasser here. The only reason why he hasn't been duly kicked out of this house is because no one knows who he is. No one knows the truth. And how odd is that? It looks as though he was also Lucas Scott's rotten little secret. Suddenly he's the half-brother that did not exist. He's the phantom here. Erased. Forgotten. He is absolutely nothing here. He's the ghost in this house.

"Hi."

Startled, his heart jolts back to banging painfully against his rib cage. Nathan almost jumps a foot away from the door. He turns to look around the room, searching for the voice that sounded too broken, too gentle and too soft to belong to anyone. He tilts his head and wonders, inanely, if Lucas is going to haunt him, he wouldn't do it in that kind of voice. Would he? Nathan isn't sure. Maybe Lucas is the sort of guy with a twisted sense of humor. Not that he'd ever know now. He takes a tentative step, heads straight towards the bed and frowns. It's a small room and it's obviously empty. His mind is tripping out on him.

" _Here_ "

Nathan uses all his will power not to vault out of the room. He whips his head down, so fast, he feels his neck muscle snap, and he finds himself staring at a girl sitting on the floor, at the foot of the bed.

The first thing that Nathan notices is she's the only one he has seen not wearing black. She's wearing a pale yellow dress - so pale it's almost white - all bunched up around her legs. He notices the way the light from the window, the bright early morning yellow sun light, filtering through slanted lines from half drawn blinds drawing all those bent/curved/straight lines across her face: underneath her eyes, on top of her lips, on the edge of her chin. And that yellow-white dress and that hazy yellow sunshine, all those shades of yellow, it's making Nathan feel light headed.

She looks all lit up. Wonderful, yellow fading light.

"What?" She asks him, this time the tone of her voice far from being dream-like.

"You're real." It's more of a question really, voice so low, she didn't seem to have heard it at all.

Again, she frowns up at him. "What?"

And then it hits him. Like a ton of bricks. The realization, that no, she's not really a mirage. Nor was she a really a _girl_. Even sitting down, legs folded underneath her, he could see the curves of her body and curves like that does not - should not - belong to a girl and he almost automatically winces and berates himself. It's completely in-fucking-appropriate, being at his brother wake and noticing things like that.

Great. Attend a funeral and lose your mind. _Thanks, Lucas. Like I really needed anymore shit like this._

The thought comes to him automatically, but strangely enough, without any trace of that seething, angry tone he always used to have whenever he blamed Lucas for his sorry fucked up life. Still, Nathan feels apologetic. You're not supposed to go blaming the dead for things that they have no control of. Right? At least that was what his mom had preached to him anyway. Something she had picked up her therapist.

Nathan shakes his head and takes a deep breath. _Not your fault dude_ , he thinks out loud, as though talking to Lucas, _that my mom is a now grieving widow and I highly doubt it that you had anything to do with the way our ass of a father had turned out to be, so… yeah, I guess, I owe you an apology._

_Sorry Lucas._

It's his first real apology meant for Lucas but this doesn't really register to him, though. He's too busy watching the woman-girl.

She motions with her hand for him to sit down, patting the spot right next to her. And because frankly, Nathan still isn't even sure if she's real or not – not that that is making any sense to him, but since the day had started with nothing making sense at all – it takes him a fraction of a second before he wordlessly crouches down, folding his right knee and settling down beside her.

He's a little too close to her, he realizes, as he feels his jeans-covered knee grazing the skin of her own knee. He notices the brown worn out teddy bear sitting on her lap, her free hand clutching it so tightly; her knuckles has turned white. It has two dark buttoned eyes and it looks sad, mournful. And old. And if this is some ghostly apparition, well, this is certainly taking the bizarreness of this day to a whole new level.

He looks back up at her face. Her skin is ivory-magnolia white and her eyes... and her eyes, man, they are so brown. And huge. Her face is serene, calm and so very delicate. She tilts her head, watching him intently. Brown-blonde waves and curls tumbling to the side of her face, brushing past the gentle swell of her breast underneath her yellow dress.

And again, Scott, you are un-fucking-believable. Stop checking her out _that_ way. And then it clicks inside his head. The flicker of recognition. She isn't a ghost. He sees that familiar flash of memory inside his head and he knows, is quite damn certain, that this is the same girl he had last seen Lucas with. The girl Lucas had been hugging the night Oak Lake lost the State Championship to Tree Hill.

 _Fantastic_ , Nathan thinks in mild annoyance, another run in with one of Lucas' ex-girlfriend. Like seeing Peyton had not been enough. If this was his karma for all the years of being a jackass then Fate has got an awful, twisted sense of justice. Forget humor, this has gone way past funny.

"Hi." She repeats, this time, her voice slightly stronger, more real.

What to say to that except: "Hi."

Not that he has a whole slew of words to greet her, his vocabulary, admittedly, is pretty limited. And anyway, he could barely think. The way she's looking at him, it's more than just distracting.

Her brown eyes are fixed on his face, her gaze unwavering. Nathan feels a little bit self-conscious. He swallows hard and tries his best not to look away. He thinks that any man would find himself so utterly lost just looking into her eyes. He might forget his name - or at least his last name and the history tied to it. Her eyes are that remarkable.

And that's actually a word he has never ever used before to describe a girl. Woman-girl. Well, just anyone ever before. He isn't like the smartest person in the room and he guesses there's a more appropriate word to describe her eyes, but right now, it's all that he could think of.

Remarkable and so very, very sorrowful.

"What are you doing in Lucas's room?" She finally asks after a few seconds of silently scrutinizing his face.

Nathan opens his mouth, is about to tell her that he's looking for the bathroom but her words shakes him out of his dream-like stupor.

 _Wait, what? Lucas's_ **_what_**?

Nathan blinks, startled back into reality. Holy crap, he thinks a heartbeat later as he starts looking around, quickly noting the greenness of the room. A handful of posters of some bands he's familiar with, all thanks to Peyton and her unrelenting schemes of trying to get him to listen to her music. But it's a boy's room, definitely. The wallpaper is green, the carpet a darker, dirtier, if not a worn out shade.

It's Oak Lake High's color: deep green everywhere.

He scans the room, sees the old jersey, draped almost carelessly at a chair. It is still being used apparently. Number 3 in forest green. The name Scott stitched at the back in white-stark-white and all around them are small green flags with the Oak Lake High logo. At the far end of the room are pictures pinned against a cork board; smiling, faded faces. There were torn off pages from a notebook, a drawing of Peyton's (Nathan knows Peyton's art work when he sees it, recognizes it almost immediately: lots of bold, heavy black ink and a spattering of deep green blood). It's a roaring Lion wrapped in green, coiling veins. The Oak Lake Lions. Roar, Lions, Roar. Underneath the drawing, is a scribbled note: _To Lucas, Heart of a Lion, love HJ._

His eyes sweeps across the room, past the green and white and gray pillowcases and bed sheet, his attention drawn to a bedside drawer pushed against the wall and sitting on top of it is a huge framed picture of Lucas and the very same girl who is still currently staring at him (and oh, how he could feel her heavy, heavy stare). In this picture, Lucas is carrying her, piggy back style and they're both wearing huge, identical, playful grins.

Nathan glances back at her, noting that she looks slightly different, a little loss, without that smile on her face, before concluding that this is fucking surreal. How he managed to wander into Lucas's room is beyond wonder. Fate is obviously, seriously yanking him around today.

"I... ugh." He tries to explain, but even this is unexplainable. She patiently wait for him to continue, still looking up at him and he watches her watch him with an almost burning intensity. He feels his face flushing and mentally curses himself.

"You look kind of familiar." She says finally, blinking slowly, as though waking up from a deep sleep. Her lashes, long and thick brushes against the skin underneath her eyes. "Have we met before?" She asks frowning, twisting the corner of her mouth and raising her eyebrows more out of confusion than anything else.

He feels his stomach clenching nervously, folding upon itself. He shoves his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans, shifts his legs. He feels what might be the beginning of a cramp and he abruptly stands up, shaking his head. From this vantage point, with him looking down at her, he notices that her is hair longer now, lighter somehow - not the dark shiny mahogany shade it had been years before in the picture, from when he had last seen her. The expectant puzzled look she's giving him is enough to make the words tumble out of his mouth. "Ugh. No," Nathan mutters, taking another half step back. "I don't think so."

It's not a lie, he tells himself, fighting off the odd, weird feeling that he should not be lying to this girl, here inside Lucas's room. It feels wrong. Disrespectful. But it's not a lie, his mind insists. They hadn't actually _met_ , even though he had seen her years ago. But _meeting_ and _seeing_ is totally different. So he's being honest. Sort of.

"So you know-" She pauses, swallows hard, winces, smiles - the brave kind of smile, in defiance of tears that's threatening to spill but will not be spilled. She takes a deep breath. "You knew Luke?"

"Luke?" The nickname is said affectionately, warmly. Nathan thinks of all the time he's been called 'Nate' and how he had always, always hated that nickname. "Luke," he murmurs almost to himself, as though testing it. "I... Well, no. Not really. We weren't close. We played against each other a couple of times. High school basketball." He adds stupidly as an explanation.

She doesn't respond right away and something flickers in her eyes, it is as though she knows that he's not being completely honest with her, it is as though she knows him - truly knows who he is - but she doesn't say anything, she twists the corner of her mouth in a smile-frown. "Basketball," she says sounding lightly amused. "Of course." She murmurs to herself, nodding her head.

Nathan feels his own forehead creasing. He opens his mouth, even though he isn't sure what he wants to say, if he has anything to say, but the voice that comes out is harsh, different, startling them both.

"Nate, where the fuck - _Oh._ Sorry. I didn't mean..." Tim stands at the opened door. He looks at them in confusion but not before letting his gaze linger over to the girl in yellow. He's pushed into the room as Jake pokes his head, eyebrows rising.

" _Oh_." Jake echoes, in the same tone and Nathan balls up his hand in a fist, wonders how this looks, particularly to his friends who had seen him at his worst, who had on several occasion drunkenly stumbled into a room a few years back where he'd be half naked on top of a girl, or vice-versa and his only reaction had been a smirk and a muttered: 'Oooops, someone forgot to lock the door.'

He's never felt guilty all those years before, never thought about how the girl must have felt but now, on this very room, he feels and thinks about it and he winces, knowing that this doesn't look any different and he painfully wonders if they are snickering at the back of their heads and thinking, well, this is certainly a new low for Nathan Scott, at a his bastard half-brother's funeral too!

Nathan doesn't really blame them if they're thinking exactly along those lines, especially since he isn't quite capable of explaining _this_ to them. He glances apologetically at the girl but her attention is no longer on him and he finds himself, startlingly somewhat a little bit disappointed.

"Tim Smith." Tim introduces himself, taking another step inside, followed by Jake who also states his name.

Nathan is torn between wanting to slam the door on his friends' faces and going over there to safely stand with them, away from her and her impossibly brown eyes.

"Hi." She says and then frowning, she asks once more: "What are you all doing in Lucas's room?"

Nathan curls his tongue inside his mouth, bites it fiercely. He very quickly looks away, stepping over to Jake and Tim, silencing their questioning looks with a glare. He turns his attention back to Lucas's - well, he didn't know what she is exactly to Lucas - another thing he doesn't and probably will never know about his brother. "We're so sorry; we didn't mean to bother you. We'll, ugh, we'll go now."

Her eyes widen and she's quick to stand up. "Wait, no. Don't."

She's so small, Nathan immediately thinks as she smoothens out her skirt, the brown bear dangling by her hand, lightly brushing her legs.

"It's okay, really. I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, it's just that…" She takes a deep breath and smiles at them, a genuine thankful smile. "Thanks for coming." Her voice is gentle but he feels her sincerity resonate all across the room and Nathan feels like a total fake. Like he didn't deserve to have her say that to him and he automatically, sadly shakes his head.

"No, it's-" he starts off in a mumble, and Nathan is never the type to mumble, but Tim is quick to cut him off.

"We saw it in the papers." Tim says.

The girl politely nods her head. "He had friends everywhere; it was the only way to let everyone know."

Tim cocks his head to the side, gives the girl his Tim Smile, friendly but almost always bordering on creepy. "Well, looks like a lot of people read the newspaper, huh?"

Nathan now very much wants to slam the door on their faces. He shoots Tim a dirty look. "Jake, could you-" He motions over to Tim and Jake nods knowingly.

"I'm on it," Jake takes a hold of Tim's arm and starts to drag a baffled looking Tim away.

"What'd I do, man?" Tim gives Jake a look, "I'm not thirsty, hey."

"It was nice meeting you." Jake tilts his head towards the girl, talking over Tim's protest and Nathan quickly closes the door behind them.

"Sorry about that." He apologizes, clasping his hand in front of him and then realizing how foolish he must look, he quickly gestures over to the closed door "Tim's well... he's, uhm, Tim." So lame, Nathan thinks, wondering why he hadn't followed Tim and Jake out. What's the point of staying here, inside Lucas's room anyway? He lifts his eyes to look at her again and feels that same odd feeling of... of wanting to stay in the room and not leaving her alone like she had been earlier.

Nathan isn't sure why, but he doesn't really like the thought of her sitting on the floor, all by herself, surrounded by memories of Lucas, all of which, given the circumstances, would be nothing short of torture. The painful, heart-rending kind. God knows, since he's never been able to go inside his father's office ever since he died and Nathan didn't want her to go through that alone.

She gives him a strange look and then shakes her head, sitting down at the bed. She takes a deep breath before glancing back up at him. "So you played basketball with Lucas." She tells him conversationally.

Maybe she doesn't want for him to leave just yet, Nathan thinks. Hopes, actually.

"Must be where I saw you." She continued looking up at him, as though sizing him up, "You look like a basketball player. I mean, you've got the height and the shoulder for it, I guess. Not that I know what sort of body type basketball players have. Like, Luke for example, he's not really all..." she straightens her shoulder, pushes her chest out, like it's supposed to make her shoulders look broader... or at least something, Nathan isn't really sure.

"Lucas is kind of tall, I suppose. But Damien always said that Lucas wasn't NBA tall and that he needed to add a few more weight." She squinches up her nose. "Or muscle. I'm not sure which." She turns her head to look at him, "When did you get to play with Luke? I try to go to all of his games and he gets into a fit if I miss one. He always says I have to be there, that it's for luck but sometimes, even if I watch, they would still lose a game, so I don't know about the luck thing. And besides he knows that I've got to help out at his mom at the café or do some tutoring." Something flashes in her face, as though remembering something and her attention shifts from him to something just beyond Nathan's shoulder. "You know, all of his high school teammates are here. I even tutored some of them and, oh gosh! I haven't even said 'Hi' to them," she states quietly, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair. She glances back at him, "Maybe you know them too. I don't know where they are now though." She scrunches up her face, "I think they're all kind of huddled over some corner in the house. Tall bunch of guys, you think they'd never get lost in a crowd, but it's a tall crowd anyway and oh, wow, I'm..." her voice falters as she blinks up at him, giving him once again her full attention.

"Rambling?" Nathan offers with a strained smile. He's never known anyone who could talk up a storm and branch out from one topic to another, almost seamlessly. It's strangely... refreshing.

She juts out her jaws, looks down and almost smiles sheepishly. "Yes. Sorry. I do that. A lot. Usually when I'm really stressed. Or just in bad situations. Not that having you here is bad," she says when she noticed his raised eyebrows. "Just the reason why you're here." She finally takes a pause and bites her lips before continuing on half a second later, "It doesn't even calm me, you know, rambling. It makes it actually worst. As you can see. Clearly. I can't seem to stop. And I am stopping now." She bites her lips again, this time latching on to it. She frantically nods her head, as though she's trying to keep all the words inside her mouth, trying to stop them from going past her lips and flying away.

Such a strange woman-girl, Nathan thinks. He's never met anyone like her. She's clearly not from the type of crowd he used to hang out with. He's too busy trying to figure out that he belatedly realizes that she has stopped talking and it's suddenly very silent. He starts clenching and unclenching his fist, not sure of what to say. He has to say something or else, the silence will swallow them up and she'd feel uncomfortable being with him, sharing this awful stillness.

"I'm Nathan." He suddenly blurts out and the moment he told her his name, he wanted to kick his head in. He isn't sure why, of the many things he could've said, it just had to be that. He doesn't know why he felt it necessary that she knows it. It could only mean trouble. What if Lucas has told her all about him and what a bastard he had been? And then she'll hate him now and she'll ask him to leave, maybe even call Karen or Keith...

"I'm Haley." The girl says, offering her hand. Nathan reaches out to shake it, feels how soft her skin is, how wonderfully warm. "Haley James." She went on, squeezing his hand a little before loosening her grasp. "I'm Lucas's best friend."

_Love, HJ._

Lucas' best friend and yet she doesn't seem to think it odd that he's here. Unless Lucas has never told her about him as well, in which case, Nathan is strangely, slightly disappointed and guilty. She's been lied to by one Scott already and now here he comes, another liar in the family. "I'm sorry." Nathan feels compelled to apologize for everything.

Haley smiles a little, "Well, don't be, he's a good guy. He takes... took real good care of me."

Nathan shakes his head. "No, I meant, I'm sorry about..." He gestures vaguely around the room.

"Oh, yeah." Haley looks down and stares hard at the floor, "Me too." Her voice is so low, Nathan almost didn't hear her. "I just... I can't believe it. I still can't believe it."

Nathan sucks in a deep breath. "How'd he..." He swallows hard and hopes that his voice hadn't crack, like he thinks it had, he winces, hopes that she didn't notice. She looks up at him, her face a picture of complete, utter misery and Nathan wants to kick himself. He shouldn't have asked her. The way she's looking up at him now... he feels his throat tightening and he shakes his head. He is such a jackass. Some things will never change. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." They both wince at the same time and Nathan feels his throat going dry. "You don't have to..."

"It was... it was a car accident." She mumbles out. "A stupid car accident." There's a hard edge on her voice and she quickly looks away, biting her lips so hard it's bound to start bleeding. Nathan wants nothing more than to go over to her side and do something... like maybe hold her but he keeps his distance.

"He was going to pick up Karen," Haley went on after a few seconds, releasing her bottom lip that had paled and then reddened in an instant. Nathan has to shake his head to clear his thoughts and bring his focus on Haley's eyes. "That's him mom," she tells him and he has to bite his own tongue to stop himself from saying: 'I know.'

"He was about two blocks away from the airport when it happened." Haley shifts her gaze and it falls on the wall with pictures and postcards pinned on them. "Karen got accepted to this amazing cooking school in Europe, she's been gone for a whole month and... and..." she explains, her voice going softer once more, "it was supposed to be a happy day." She turns her gaze back to the worn out bear that she's still holding, placing it gently on top of Lucas's pillow.

"I'm really sorry." Nathan says yet again. He has never hated the word 'sorry' so much in his entire life which is ironic since he has never said it this much.

"Yeah. Me too." She reaches out to touch the bear once more. "We've been friends ever since he moved here. He's more like my brother. He practically is...was my brother. God," she lets out a strangled breath, her hands covering her face, wiping away the tears that she wouldn't let fall. "I keep having to correct myself." She lets out a half-chuckle, which sounded more like sob. She shakes the hair from out of her eyes that had suddenly gone bright, lit up by memories of Lucas. "Luke, he can be very protective and really stubborn and... we... he had always been there for me. We used to have breakfast or dinner together at the café every day and I just, I just keep thinking that now I'm going to have to eat all those meals alone, without him. And no one's going to force me to eat healthy food anymore. I'll be eating cookie dough for the rest of my life and no one would be able to stop me." She stops, smiling wistfully.

"He's supposed to be packing now." Haley informs him, "He's going to Florence with Karen for a whole month and he promised me that he'll send me one postcard a day. He said he was going to write another novel there, at the balcony of his hotel room, sipping coffee and he just..." Haley looked up to him, her eyes red-rimmed, swimming with tears. "He had so many plans. This wasn't supposed to have happened at all!" She makes helpless hand gestures, her wrist flexing gracefully, before closing her hand in a tight fist, so tight her nails must be digging into the softness of her delicate palms.

Nathan shakes his head; he wants her to go on, to not stop talking. When she's rambling like that, she doesn't look so lost and alone. "It's ok." He takes one step forward, "It’s okay Haley."

"No," Haley says brokenly, looking up at him, brown eyes so fierce, so dark, it's enough to stop him in mid-step. Nathan feels his arms falling uselessly to his side as Haley shook her head, her wavy-curly hair falling past her shoulder, the ends grazing the skin of her closed fist. "It's not. It's _not_ okay. This is so far from okay."


	7. Seven

**_Seven_ **

They say sometimes, time passes you by. Time ever so constant and inescapable and yet, for a moment, you completely forget about it, made so completely unaware of it; not the ticking of the seconds, the changing of the minutes, the hours. The swinging pendulums perfectly motionless.

Nathan has several moments of time stopping: the winning shot hanging by the air, milliseconds away from a win, from a loss - infinite possibilities suspended over the gasping, silent crowd. Always at the court, always with a thousand eyes watching him. Never exactly like this, never with just one person looking up at him, huge, brown eyes and faint yellow sunshine. And that's pretty much about the only thing Nathan is aware at this moment. He's leaning against the wall, arms hanging loosely at his sides, listening intently as Haley tries not to ramble too much.

She's still sitting on Lucas's bed, arms around her knees that were drawn up, tightly hugging herself. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ears, gazes at some fix point at the wall of the room and asks, "Did you go to the cemetery? I didn't see you there."

Nathan shakes his head. "Ugh, no. I didn't." He's almost ashamed to admit this and he wants to tell her that it's nothing really personal, that it has nothing to do with Lucas, but more about having to stand underneath the perfectly blue and sky, everything and everyone around so alive and bright – tainted by the sound of grief. It's the finality of the whole thing. To watch someone who's been part of your life, someone you looked up to, someone like a father or a brother or a friend - just the mere thought of having to leave them there, so dark and cold and alone - it just didn't seem right. No matter how much or how little you feel for them.

It's the kind of thing that's enough to bring even the strongest person down to his knee, reduce him into a sobbing, incoherent little child. Nathan remembers watching his grandfather, Royal Scott, always so loud, so stoic, so domineering, so proud and strong and there he was, at the grave of his youngest son sobbing, crying so openly, so desperately. That sort of thing, it's going to stick to you and there's no shaking that memory out of your head.

Nathan watches as Haley winces, something dark and desperate fleetingly crosses over her face. "I didn't wanna go either." Haley admits, looking away. "I couldn't say goodbye just yet... but Karen needed me."

Nathan nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I know the feeling."

She turns her head to meet his eyes. "You do?"

There's surprised, hopeful tone on her voice and Nathan's thoughts about his father's funeral came spilling forth. The words were out of his mouth before he could even stop himself. "When my... dad died, I couldn't say goodbye too. I mean not with everyone else around. It was… I felt like I was suffocating." Nathan winces at how stupid it sounds. "Not exactly the right word, I guess." He amends quickly, slightly embarrassed. He isn't sure why he's being so damn talkative. He thinks this is the most he has ever talked to a girl without flirting or trying to charm her. This is the most he had talked about his father's death, period. These are the words his mother, his friends, his therapist (that his mother had insisted that he talked to), had wanted to hear from him. Because they said it was all part of the healing process. But to Nathan, it was like picking at the scabs of his wound and once he opened up, it'll all come back again. It will not be like healing at all.

But there's something about her, something about Haley James - her voice, her eyes, the way she looks at him - something totally unexplainable that makes Nathan say the things he thought he'd never be able to tell anyone.

Maybe it is easier to talk to a stranger.

Still, the way Haley is able to so freely ask him the questions no one has ever bothered or dared asking him before, it makes him a little nervous. A little wary. This is why he is keeping his distance, even if he feels totally ridiculous standing so far away from her, having what is quite possibly, the most intense conversation of his entire life. The distance is good. It's safe. From here, he could still see her eyes and her half winces, half smiles, but that's all that he needs. Nothing more and nothing less.

Haley is shaking her head, the light from outside bouncing against her brown-blonde hair. "No, no, I know what you mean." She tells him in that gentle voice of her, "It's exactly how I felt. Like, I couldn't breathe at all." Nathan silently watches as she takes a deep breath, wonders how it is possible that they can feel the same way when it is obvious that what she and Lucas had - their friendship - was nowhere near what he and Dan had. Estranged, bitter father and son. Rivals until the bitter end.

Maybe loosing someone is the same for everyone. Maybe the constant thing about life isn't time or change but pain. But that's a lot of _maybes_ , even for Nathan.

"So how did you say goodbye?" Haley asks, her brown eyes directed at some point far beyond outside Lucas's window. She's never looked so lost at that very moment and even though every fiber in Nathan's being is telling him that he had said enough, too much really, he can't let her be this way. He has to have an answer for her otherwise, she's going to be lost forever and then it's going to be his fault. He takes a deep breath, tries to go back to the day they buried his father. It's the same day as this, beautiful and so very... alive and Nathan remembers the soothing, murmuring sound of the river running forever and ever.

"I went to the Rivercourt," Nathan's voice is hoarse, on the verge of cracking. He pauses and clears his throats, "it's an old basketball court, near the river, hence the name," he offers Haley a small grin and he watches fascinated as the corner of her lips curls up in a the tiniest hint of a smile. Nathan quickly looks away, following Haley's far seeing gaze. "I shot basket after basket after basket- I don't know how many - I just kept going and going until I couldn't see the ball anymore."

The room is so silent and when Nathan turns his attention back to Haley, he finds himself looking straight into her eyes. There's a million silver dust motes floating around her, framing her and he's never really seen anyone quite like her before. Nothing about her seemed...ordinary.

"Sounds like something Lucas would do." Haley tells him in a low voice, her smile slowly, slowly, gently blooming from her lips. It's a real smile, an amused, happy smile. It reaches her eyes and for the first time since he had seen her today, Nathan is startled to realize that he is thinking of how pretty she is. Her open almost child-like face, completely without any trace of makeup, her lips pale and chapped, dark bags underneath her eyes – like this, she just takes his breath away.

And she looks like she doesn't even know how she looks like right now, isn't at all aware that to Nathan, standing so awkwardly away from her, she, Haley James was the prettiest – no, the most delicately beautiful girl he has ever seen. And this is coming as a huge shock to Nathan, because not so long ago, nothing like her would ever have interested him.

He didn't go, had never went for the naïve, innocent girl, the quiet ones. He had always secretly felt that they were a hundred notches above him, way, way out of his league. Haley James belonged to those kind of girls who were smart enough not to pay him any attention, who thought of him as trouble (which he was) and had warily avoided him.

But here she is now, Haley James, so achingly simple in her faded yellow dress, the antithesis of every other girl he had ever flirted with and slept with. All those nameless, faceless girls he had so callously left come morning, whose phone numbers and love letters he had crumpled into a ball, shot right into a garbage can. So easily forgotten.

Haley James is nothing like them. And Nathan thinks, he is sure, there is no way he's ever going to forget her eyes.

She must have seen something in his face, something in his eyes, because she nervously looks away. Glancing around the room, Haley sighs, letting out a small chuckle. "I think I spent most of my time here than in my own bedroom."

Corner twist of her mouth. Nathan is not going to forget that too.

She lets out a small ghost of a chuckle. "Mr. Waffles certainly spent more time here."

Still somewhat shaken and confused, Nathan frowns and raises his eyebrows at her, eager to change the topic, to forget that brief but charged moment between them. "Mr. Waffles?"

Haley bites her lips, as though she hadn't meant to introduce Mr. Waffles to their conversation. She colors slightly; her cheeks tainted with a faded shade of pink-red as she gestures over to the teddy bear innocently sitting atop Lucas's pillow. "I used to have him when I was a kid and then well... I was going to bring him to Lucas at the hospital when he... when I found out that..."

"Hey, Hales."

Nathan is quick to step away from the door suddenly swinging open. Basketball reflexes. A tall guy enters the room, familiar looking. Brown mop of hair falling past the nape of his neck; it's about the only thing that Nathan sees as the guy walks past him, totally unaware of him.

"Hey," The greeting is for the tall guy, but Haley is looking past the guy's shoulder, seeking and catching Nathan's eyes.

It's the strangest feeling in the world, Nathan thinks, staring into her warm brown eyes. Kind of like the first few seconds of a basketball game, the very second he steps into the court, right before the tipoff: the uncertainty, the adrenaline, the strange mix of excitement and anxiety. The nervous fluttering inside his chest and the painful stomach cramps.

Haley tears her gaze away from him, turns and tilts her head to look at the other guy instead. "What are you doing here, Damien?"

Damien West. Nathan remembers the name. Captain of Oak Lake High. The Oak Lake High equivalent of Nathan Scott. The guy had a mean streak in him, always trying to jab an elbow in his ribs, always sneering at everyone. Even at his own teammates.

Oh, Nathan knows a thing or two about West. He was a good player, in fact one of the few chosen alongside him to go to the exclusive High Flyers and though Nathan admittedly had been always arrogant, self-assured, annoying jackass, West was ten times worst. In fact, West reminded Nathan of his own father. If Dan Scott had been younger, he and Damien West would have no doubt found each other and would have been each other's best friend and worst enemy.

"I'd been looking everywhere for you Hales. I was worried about you." West declared, sounding sincerely worried. It's the first time Nathan had ever associated the word _sincere_ with West. And he's quite sure it's only because of Haley. There's something about her that brings out the good in other people. Even in certified jackassess like West. Of course, it is possible that West had changed over the years, but Nathan wasn't betting on it.

"I've been here all along, Damien." Haley answers shrugging her shoulders.

Damien didn't seem to hear. He rakes his hand over to his hair and shakes his head. "I'm sorry about Luke. This day sucks and it's been really..." He stops as soon as he realizes that he didn't have Haley's sole attention. He turns his head and finds Nathan standing so fucking casually beside the opened door. "-fucked up," He finishes in a distracted voice, immediately pinning Nathan with his stare. He takes a step back, so that he's standing right smack in between Haley and Nathan. "What the fuck, Hales?" He asks, glancing at Haley.

Nathan quickly tamps down the urge to roll his eyes. True, the guy wasn't actually known for being polite but Nathan, who is also quite guilty of constant, heavy cussing, had gotten through a whole conversation with Haley without having to swear. Surely, West could do the same thing.

Haley winces, ignoring Damien's outburst. "This is-" She starts, gesturing over to him but Damien cuts her off.

"Nathan Scott. Yeah, I know him." He turns his whole body towards Nathan, blocking Nathan's view of Haley. The stance is protective, angry and as arrogant as Nathan remembers. "Tree Hill. Raven, right?"

Nathan, who had never, ever backed down on any fight, tries to keep his voice low and calm as he answered, nodding his head. "How's your free-throws, West?" he asks trying to make it sound light. The last thing he needed was to get pulled into trash talking with Damien West. That could get ugly very quickly and he has to remind himself of where he was and who he's with.

Damien advances towards him. Nathan doesn't even flinch. In all the times that the Tree Hill Ravens and the Oak Lake Lions had met on court, Damien had done the very same thing. Captain against Captain. Toe to toe. Clash of Blue and Green. The soaring Raven versus the roaring Lion. Both arrogant and proud. Nathan doesn't remember how many times their respective Coaches had personally pulled them apart, an inch short of pummelling their fists against their faces. They were both too valuable to be thrown out of the game over something as silly as a staring contest. But Damien West just loved getting into Nathan's face, invading his personal space, sneering at him. It's his idea of trying to be intimidating. This is nothing new to Nathan. He feels his jaws hardening as he keeps his gaze steady.

"What the hell are you doing here, Scott?" Damien practically spits out. "You trying to prove something?" The tone is menacing, loaded with meaning, with silent threats.

There's a sudden, brief flash of panic in Nathan, nothing to do with Damien West trying to stir up trouble, but everything to do with the fact that Damien just might know that he's Lucas's half-brother and if he calls him on it, then Haley will find out and she will hate him just as Damien does. Nathan is sure that somehow, sometime during the many locker room talks, Lucas might have vented out to his teammates: _Fucking arrogant Raven-pussy, my father would've chosen him; they're so much alike._

Nathan grimaces. He had certainly done that, calling Lucas all sorts of names, getting his whole team riled up, ready to beat Lucas's ass on his command.

"Damien, don't." Haley's voice is strained, but loud enough to get Damien's attention.

"Haley," He starts in protest, looking at her and then back to Nathan. "Do you know who he is? And he's inside Lucas's room! How could you?"

The accusation rings clear and the sudden, crushing crestfallen look on Haley's face is enough of an incentive for Nathan to lunge at Damien and deck him. Shut the guy up. He deserves it, if only for making Haley feel as though she had somewhat betrayed Lucas. Nathan glances at her, sees her throat working, her face so startlingly pale.

"Yes, I know." Haley states slowly, stressing every word, her voice raising, strong, clear and confident. "Big high school basketball rivalry." She pauses, shakes her head, stares up into West's face. "God, Damien, don't be such a jerk." She sniffs gently, rubs her hand against her face and mutters darkly, "Not now and not _here_." She says through gritted teeth, gesturing around Lucas's room. "Please." She pleads in a small voice and adds softly, so soft, Nathan isn't sure if he actually heard it: "Please, if not for Lucas, then do it for me."

Damien gives Nathan one last dirty look before backing away, raising his hands, palms up in what looked like a feeble attempt at a peaceful gesture. "Okay. Fine." He turns towards Haley and moves towards her. "But just 'cause you asked." He says in a voice that is almost gentle, coaxing.

Nathan has his fist clenched so tightly, he feels his nails digging deep into his palms. The tension in the room fizzles and he's left standing almost dumbly, watching as Damien sits beside Haley, Mr. Waffles toppling over from his perch at the sudden, added weight on the bed. Damien picks it up and settles it on top of the bedside drawer. "The guys and me are leaving after a few, wanna go grab something to eat?" He asks and Nathan tells himself that this is the perfect time to flee, get the hell out of this room but he's somehow stuck to his spot, unmoving, and riveted to this little drama playing right before his eyes.

Haley is still staring at the carpet, not meeting anyone's eyes. "The guys and I." She corrects Damien.

Damien's forehead creases in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing." Haley lets out a sigh and after giving Nathan a quick glance, turns her head towards Damien. "Thanks, but I'm fine. I'm not hungry."

Damien looks at her for a long time before letting out a tired, impatient sigh. "Alright. Whatever." He shoots another glare at Nathan, who is still, impossibly, standing by the door. What the fuck is this guy's problem? Damien wonders, relieving much of their on-court battles. He still hadn't forgotten that it was Scott's fault why he never achieved his state championship MVP. He couldn't understand what the hell was Nathan doing here when he had singlehandedly crushed their dreams of winning State. Whatever Nathan is up to, Damien is sure that it can't be good. He turns his attention back to Haley and swallows hard. He hates seeing her like this. They weren't good friends now, but they had known each other ever since they were kids. No one deserves to be this sad and lost. Especially not Haley. He lowers his voice, wincing a little. Looking almost sorry, almost guilty, Damien peers into Haley's impassive face.

"Look, I…" he glances back at Nathan and shakes his head, no, not in front of Scott. “I'm... I'm here for you Hales, okay? Don't forget that." Haley wordlessly nods her head, already putting up her walls. Damien lets out a soft sigh of defeat. "I'll call you." He pauses, as though unsure of his next move and then, with a 'what the hell shrug' he leans over and gives Haley a quick, hard kiss on her temple. He quickly stands up, ignores the dark haired Raven and in three quick strides, is almost out of the door. He stops abruptly as he walks into... what the fuck? Another fucking Raven. What the fuck is this? Some kind of invasion?

Tim lets out a yelp, "Whoa big guy!" and quickly looks up, realizing that he's standing in front of the biggest jackhole of Oak Lake City. Fuck me, Tim thinks, why the hell is West looking at him like he's about to wring his neck? What could he have possibly done to the guy? He shoots Nathan quick looks, but Nathan is too busy making googly eye with that Haley girl.

"Watch it loser." Damien mutters.

Tim has enough sense not to talk back. He satisfies himself with a few seconds of exchanging ' _grrrr_ ' looks with Damien, neither one willing to back down. Tim hears Haley's voice from the inside: "Damien."

The tone is filled with warning, the kind that says, 'Don't or else...' and the 'or else' speaks of painful consequences.

Damien sneers at Tim. Tim only smiles his Sweet Tim Smile back.

And at the corner, Nathan has forgotten how to breathe; he's too busy trying to figure out what he'll do if Damien tries something - anything with Tim. He just can't stupidly stand here, that's for certain, but God, please, not here. If he has to, he'd kick Damien's ass, but not here, not in Lucas's room and not in front of Haley.

After a few more second of tension filled silence, the ex- Oak Lake Lion captain walks away, giving Haley and then Nathan one last glance.

"Pack of losers, they're like everywhere." Tim mutters underneath his breath, stepping inside the room.

Jake, who had been standing just behind Tim, ready to defend his friend lets out the breath he's been holding, "Actually, I think you mean _pride_ of lions." He says, shaking his head and then nodding apologetically at Haley.

"Unkindness of ravens." Haley murmurs to herself, loud enough for Nathan to hear. He looks at her questioningly, but she keeps her eyes averted.

"Whatever." Tim says with a roll of his eyes. He turns to Nathan, "Nate, we gotta head back."

Time to go, Nathan thinks. He pauses, unsure of what to do or say now. This is the last time he'll see Haley. It's going to be a lame goodbye and she's bound to forget all about him. He winces a little and finally takes a step towards her, still keeping the safe distance between them. He looks down at her, just as he had minutes ago, when he found her at the floor. He's barely able to stop himself from reaching out and touching her hair and Nathan isn't so sure how he managed to not touch Haley, at all, but he's almost thankful that he has kept his hands inside his pockets.

"I'm really sorry Haley." He says after a few seconds of silence. She looks up at him and once again, he's caught by surprise by the color of her eyes. "Lucas sounds like a great guy. I'm sorry I didn't get to know him." He says this sincerely. He means every word and hopes that she knows it. It's the only thing that he could give her, this moment of honesty.

There's an almost startled look on Haley's face, but she quickly shakes her head and then gently, sadly smiles up at him.

Nathan still can't quite make himself walk away. He needs to know. "You be okay, okay?"

Haley nods her head, keeping her eyes on him. Wordlessly, she stands up, takes a step forward. Nathan keeps still, his heart banging loudly, painfully against his chest. He watches Haley as she stood on her toes and softly, briefly, gently kisses the edge of his jaws. "Thank you for coming, Nathan."

Nathan isn't really aware of how he got out of the room. Either Jake or Tim had hauled him off his feet and dragged him all the way to the porch or he just had the most insanely detailed day dream about meeting Haley James, Lucas's best friend, inside Lucas's very own room. There is no way that could have been real, right? Except, there's still that faint warmth at the very spot where she had kissed him. He gingerly touches the spot.

And her voice, the way she said his name, it's still echoing inside his head. Reverberating.

He can't remember anyone ever saying his name so... kindly.

Someone taps on his shoulder, he whirls around and finds Peyton standing in front of him and he quickly shakes the disappointment that had snaked its way inside his heart.

"Going already?" Peyton frowns up at him a hint of disapproval on her voice. "You haven't even said 'hi' or I don't know, 'sorry' to Lucas's mom yet."

Nathan grimaces and shakes his head. "Yeah. I'm sorry about that and about leaving so soon but we gotta go." He can't help it; he looks past Peyton's head, into the dark hallway, the closed door at the end of the hallway and wonders about Haley James. "Tell... tell Mrs. Roe that I'm really sorry."

"Alright. I will. Thanks for coming. And say hi to Deb for me."

Nathan nods his head as Peyton reaches out to hug him, surprising Nathan. He returns the hug, squeezing her gently. "You're going to be okay." He tells her, sure of this. Peyton may look and act tough in the outside, but Nathan knew better. Or at least he'd like to think that he knows her a little better, he might not have been in love with her, but he did care about her.

"I know." She pulls away from him and smiles up at him. "Don't be a stranger, Nate."

"I won't." Nathan promises, even though he knows that's what he'll become. That's what he already is.


	8. Eight

**_Eight_ **

"Wow, man, can you like, imagine being dead?" Tim is at it again. They're all back inside Nathan's car, heading home to Tree Hill.

Nathan thinks it's impossible that it had just been three hours since they had abruptly abandoned their usual Sunday brunch. It seems more like a dazed dream to him. For everything to happen in that short amount of time, it's just...impossible. But it did happen. Lucas is dead. Peyton was Lucas's girlfriend. And Haley. He did meet her. He feels an imaginary itch, a twitch – almost like tingling sensation on his jaws; on the very spot where Haley's lips had barely grazed against his skin. He shakes his head and keeps his eyes on the road, ignoring Tim as he babbled on.

Nathan feels something inside of him stirring – as though awakened - but he isn't sure what it is. Could not pin point the reason for him to feel this way. Like there is something that he has to do, although what exactly, he doesn't know. He tries to grasp the answer but it does not come anywhere near him. And he figures it wouldn't come to him, not with Tim hovering beside him madly twittering about God knows what.

"I'm all messed up." Tim continues, twisting in his seat so he could address Jake. Nathan is being his usual unresponsive self, which has been some sort of weird after effect of Mr. Scott's death. It was like the day Dan Scott died, Nathan Scott decided to stop being Nathan Scott. His friend is still there, of course, but Tim has only seen glimpses of the Nathan that he knew. No one has ever been able to bring Nathan out of his shell. He thought maybe Lucas's death might just do that but even that didn't shake Nathan out of whatever weird non-depressed state he's in.

Tim feels bad about the whole thing. With Nate and his dad and now with Lucas. He and Nathan go way back, they were boys together and even though Nathan never really spoke in great details on the many issues concerning his life: basketball, his volatile relationship with his dad, his almost non-existent relationship with his mom, his parents' relationship, his older half-brother – all of which Nathan refuses to acknowledge – Tim always known when things got especially bad. He had always been there for Nathan. Whether it was drinking themselves into perpetual stupor or hooking up with random girls at random parties, or just hanging out and pretending to be really into their almost ritualistic NBA Live games. He and Nathan had always done those things together and whatever Nathan had went through, Tim felt that he had been a part of it. Even though most of the time he felt more like an outsider looking in.

They still did things together. Except for the partying, that all stopped, almost abruptly, when Dan died. Tim figured it was because there was no more Dan to bully Nathan around; there was no need for Nathan to retaliate by pissing the heck out of his dad with his excessive partying and drinking and numerous hook ups.

It never really occurred to Tim that all their juvenile pranks and dares just didn't do it for Nathan anymore. He thought it was only a matter of time before Nathan started acting like his old, ordinary self. Today though, it looked like it all that was simply over. He'd finally understood that the Nathan from before was now gone.

Tim isn't sure how he feels about that exactly, but he wishes there was at least some one, just one person that Nate could talk to. Someone who'd also see Nathan the way he sees him: a good guy, deep down, even with all the crap he used to pull. In all the years that Tim had known Nathan, he had seen him be a decent guy. Like today. It just seemed, at least to him, that sometimes Nathan didn't particularly think that there's any good reason why he should be _that_ guy. And that's what Nathan is lacking. A reason.

Of course, if he goes around saying this, Nathan would just tell him that he had gone and become even more pansier than ever. Besides, guys would _never_ say stuff like that. At least not out loud. It would have been awesome if they have at least one girl friend, someone they were buddies with, someone who could talk to them about feelings and stuff. There's way too much testosterone in their little friendship, it's emotionally crippling him. Like today for example, he wants to talk about how he felt during the funeral and the wake and neither Nate nor Jake were taking him seriously. "That could have been me or you or someone we actually know." Tim continues undeterred.

"We do know Lucas. Or at least, we did know about Lucas." Jake frowns, confused. He sends Tim a dirty look. "Tim, could you just not?"

Tim pauses to sigh and mournfully look at them. "Sorry, man, it just sort of hit me." Tim gazes out of the window and mumbles, more to himself than to anyone. "It'll suck ass to die young."

"It's not like we'll be young forever." Jake reasons out with a shrug, stretching his leg, wondering if maybe letting Nathan drag them all the way to Oak Lake had been a mistake. He feels the strangeness of this day still clinging to them. Like there's more to come. The day is still young, after all. Jake's still not sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. He glances at Nathan who is stoically ignoring them. His friend has had too many downs lately; it's time something good happen to him. He just wish that whatever that good thing is, it'll stay longer than a few years of reigning as a basketball God of a small, local high school.

Tim pouts solemnly, fixing Jake with a wounded look. "Yeah, I know but I don't want to grow really, really old. Not like senile and smelly old. Like maybe sixty years old _old_. That seems kinda ok to me. I'd still have some of my looks." He lets out a small sniffle as though already sorry to have lost his young 'roguish' good looks, as he always tend to describe himself. "What about you guys?"

That seems to have gotten Nathan's attention as he makes a face before turning to look at Tim, eyebrows raised. "What about us?"

Tim gives him a 'Duh!' look. "How old do you think it’s okay to die?"

The question hangs in the air and for a moment Jake wants to smack Tim in the head. Way to go. Of all the possible topic of discussion, Tim just had to pick death. But just when he is about to lean forward, Tim's words rattles inside his head and Jake is startled to realize that he hadn't really thought about death that way, as in _him_ dying and more than that, he's a little unnerved by the fact that sometimes, Tim comes up with the most life altering questions ever. He slumps back in his seat and briefly closes his eyes. How old? The answer comes to him quickly, with the kind of clarity that he rarely finds himself capable of having. There is no exact age but... "I wanna see Jenny do great stuff, you know. Always be there for her."

Tim sadly shakes his head. "Not when you start forgetting about her, like her name or how she looks like. I mean, my grandfather, before he died and he was like really old, like maybe a hundred or something, he didn't even know my dad anymore. He kept asking: 'Who are you? Where's my son? I want to see my son.' and my dad would be just right there, sitting beside him. That's not cool. I mean, how'd you think Jenny'll feel if you can't remember her anymore."

"That sucks, man." Jake agrees, a haunted look crossing his features.

Nathan keeps silent, looks on straight ahead. He doesn't know anything about dying young or old. He doesn't know anything about dying, period. People assume all sorts of things about death and they kid themselves into thinking that somehow by rationalizing death, by acknowledging it, by talking about it like it's nothing but some purely random, completely unavoidable circumstance in life, they have come to accept it. Dying becomes kind of okay. Curtain call. Game over. Moving on to the next world or whatever. Ladidida. See you when I see you. Nathan thinks that's complete bullshit. No one can ever, ever truly accept death.

"It sucks to die too young and too old. You gotta do it like somewhere in the middle. When you're still okay but you know, old enough to have really, really lived. I plan on doing everything before I turn sixty." Tim grins at them and adds, "And guys, I mean _everything_."

Tim winks at them for added effect and normally, this would just start a whole new other subject of conversations but Jake is still stuck with the thought of forgetting his own daughter and how old age seems to be the greatest form of punishment ever invented. He doesn't get how Tim could say the most gut-wrenching thing and be all okay about it. He had just experienced the most horrible moment of having to think about dying, leaving Jenny all by herself and Tim goes on to talk about... well, whatever the hell the wink is supposed to mean. Jake grits his teeth and shakes his head. "Tim you do know that you can't like, plan death, right?"

Tim ignores the exasperated headshake. "Well, I sure as hell can plan until I die, right?"

"Until you turn sixty." Jake deadpans.

Tim thoughtfully nods his head. "Sixty-five-ish, maybe. But yeah, that's what I'm saying."

"You really are more naïve than I thought possible. Or you're just really retarded." Jake mutters irritably.

Tim shoots Jake a sour look. "I'm just saying."

"Well, you're depressing the hell out of me Smith."

Nathan rolls his eyes as he parks the car in front of the café. Thank God. If he has to listen to Jake and Tim arguing and sniping at each other he's really going to have some sort of breakdown. "You two quit it." He glares at both of his friends. "Now I know why Peyton thinks you're giving off couple-vibes." He mutters underneath his breath.

Jake snaps his attention back to him and gives him a look of alarm. "Whoa, _what_? I'm sorry, please tell me I heard you wrong."

"Couple-vibe? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Tim asks truly perplexed.

Nathan shakes his head, cuts the engine and ignores the bickering couple inside the car. He gets out, takes a deep breath and leans heavily into the car door. He hears Tim's question echoing inside his head. How old? Try never.

He thinks about his dad. It's not like Dan had planned on dying. Dan seemed like the type of guy who thought that he'd live forever, out last everyone else. Besides, as Dan would often joke (or not joke about) he still had far too many people to bully around for him to actually ever want to just die. And Nathan can almost guarantee that Lucas is still caught by surprise by the fact that his heart had stopped beating. At least, somewhere he is. Tim can go on about planning the perfect age to die, but it's never going to happen. It's either you die too young, too old, too soon or too late.

He didn't want to argue with Tim who thinks it’s okay to die old. That's Tim's way of trying to understand death. Who was he to tell Tim that he's wrong? That it's not right to think that when someone old dies, someone you know, it doesn't make it any easier to accept it right away, that after a while, it becomes kind of okay. That's impossible. You just can't tell yourself: well, they're old, they've lived their lives, they might not have been happy about it, but they've gotten married, had fallen in love real hard, maybe twice or thrice. They've seen their kids grow up, the kids of their friends, brothers and sisters grow up. People, when they turn 80 and they die quietly in their sleep or they slip away from the hospital, it's not too bad.

Nathan knows that it isn't like that all. Regardless of how old or how young or how ready the person might be, death still shakes something out of you. It puts you in a sort of never ending limbo. Maybe like a year old stupor. Or maybe not even that, but it clutches, clenches at some important, internal organ and you suddenly can't breathe, can't think.

He hears the sound of the café door opening, pulling him from out of his thoughts. He looks up just in time to see Rachel and Mouth walk out of the door hand in hand. He watches the couple pass him by, completely unaware of his presence, even though he was barely a foot away from them. Rachel has all of Mouth's attention and he doesn't seem to notice the stares he's getting. All the attention they're getting. Mouth looks completely oblivious to anything and everything around them. It was obvious that to Mouth, there is no one else in the world except him and Rachel - the whole universe had ceased to exist and it was alright.

Nathan can't remember ever being like that with any girl. All zoned out on just one person, everything else fading quietly away, a secondary reality in the background, everything else is just white noise. He's never met a girl before that could hold all of his undivided attention.

Well, maybe _never_ does not apply anymore.

"Well, that was a strange, strange morning." Tim finally concludes as he walks around the car, keeping a good few feet away from Jake who's still looking quite disturbed. Nathan doesn't say anything, keeps his gaze fixed on Rachel and Mouth. Tim can practically see the wheels turning inside Nate's head. He raises his eyebrows and nods at Jake, inclining his head over to Nathan. Jake shakes his head, a knowing look passing between them. "So, what's the plan today Nate?" Tim asks and as predicted, he doesn't get any reply from Nathan who is looking so far away; he might as well be somewhere else right now.

"Why don't we head over to the Rivercourt. Shoot some hoops. Get our mind off of things." Jake suggests, ambling towards them, hands deep inside his jeans pocket.

"Sounds good to me." Tim answers and adds, "I miss the Rivercourt guys."

Jake throws him a strange look.

"What? I'm not allowed to miss guy friends?"

Nathan head's snaps back up. He knows what he has to do. "I gotta go back."

This does not surprise Jake at all. He isn't blind and he had seen the way Nathan had been looking at the girl in Lucas's bedroom. It doesn't takes a rocket scientist to know exactly what Nathan is thinking or feeling right now. But Jake isn't sure that this is the best course of action to take. Of course, Nathan being Nathan wouldn't know that, would not realize it himself that he's seeking not just answers but maybe a little comfort as well. Maybe even a link to the brother he had never known. Jake thinks that Nate is rushing into things. And even though that's exactly what Nathan Scott is known for, he feels that as a friend, he has to step in and prevent Nathan from doing something that he just might regret later on. "What? C'mmon, Nate, what the hell for? You've been there, we've paid our respects. You gotta let it go. There's nothing in Oak Lake for you."

Nathan shakes his head. He turns to them, jaws clenched. He looks even different and Jake has never seen Nathan look like this in a long, long time. So determined. So sure of himself. Jake almost takes a step back. It's like suddenly being thrown back in time.

"I just... I gotta go back." Nathan says finally, taking the keys out of his pocket. "I'll see you guys around."

Tim and Jake silently watch as Nathan gets in the car. Without warning, Tim steps forward and pokes his head inside the opened window. Frowning he asks, "Is this about Peyton? 'Cause while you were at Hayden's room, I think she's still, kind of in love with Lucas and I know that Lucas is dead and maybe you think that it's..."

"Tim, shut up. This isn't about Peyton." Nathan says, actually smirking. "And it's not Hayden," he adds, his voice almost going softer, gentler but still, with alarming intensity. "It's Haley."

"What?"

"C'mmon, dude." Jake says, pulling Tim away. He looks at Nathan straight in the eye. "Be careful, Nate, alright? Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Nathan nods his head and find himself half smiling, half frowning as he peeled off into the street. He's exactly bound to do things that Jake would never even think about doing. And maybe, maybe this time, for a change, it just might be a good thing.

* * *

Nathan finds the café. Didn't know how he managed to find it but he knows it's the right one. On the door, it simply says Karen's Café. It isn't any different from her rest of the cafés back in Tree Hill. In fact, if someone moved it from here to there, it'll fit perfectly right in place. That is of course, once they take out all the Oak Lake Lions posters, flags, even a large lion stuffed toy wearing the green jersey. Mrs. Roe is one proud mother, that's for sure.

He remember his mom suggesting once to put up his jersey on the wall of his mom's bar, _Deb's Den_ , encased in glass. Nathan had been surprisingly touched by his mom's gesture, which Dan promptly ruined when his father had asked, in his cool, calm voice: "Why the hell for Deb? He hasn't proven anything yet."

And yet, there on that same holy wall was his father's own old high school jersey. Nathan had sneeringly answered, "Forget it mom. Don't want to be up with the has-beens."

There was just general love all around their family.

Lucas certainly didn't seem to mind having all sorts of Oak Lake #3 stuff displayed over the whole place. Nathan walks in almost cautiously, idly noting some of the framed pictures and news clippings. Some of it didn't have anything to do with Lucas although it mentioned the team. He looks around the empty place, taking a few more tentative steps as his hands touch the wooden tables and chairs he passes by. Lucas must have spent almost half of his life inside this café with Haley and his mom and maybe even Keith. Nathan feels a slight twinge of envy.

Deb's Den wasn't exactly the best place to hang out when he was sixteen; all those alcohol around and the older women, even the college guys who seemed to think that they can prove something if they got into a fight with Nathan Scott. He avoided his mom's bar as much as he could and had stayed at his dad's beach house – was forced to stay there, as Dan always wanted to grill him on how their practice went or sometimes watch the old games, point out his many short comings. It wasn't always such nightmare, hanging out with Dan at the beach house. On his good days, Dan can be gracious with showering him praises. It was just hard to guess when Dan was in a good, proud-dad mood.

People used to say that he got the better deal out of the whole sordid affair, that he was the lucky one, that he had gotten the best out of life. He had believed it to be true but now Nathan knows that he and Lucas were exactly the same: neither one got the better deal out of anything. He and Lucas both have regrets and resentments. And just the same, they have shiny moments in life, memories that they treasure, that they hold dear and precious. And Nathan might never know the truth, but he guesses that the only difference between him and Lucas was that Lucas knew how to appreciate the things that matter the most, that he knew how to keep them close to him so that it illuminated everything else, even the bad stuff.

He goes in further inside the café and somehow, he knows it: Haley isn't here. He had hoped that maybe... she had mentioned something about being in the café with Lucas every day. Obviously he was wrong to think that he'd find her here. He makes an about face, suddenly in a hurry to get out. Another place he should not be in. Another place he had trespassed. He wonders how he'd feel if he found out that Lucas had come into his house, into his room, into his mother's bar. When he's about half way towards the door when someone announces in a hurried voice: "We're closed."

Nathan turns his head and finds himself looking at his uncle's pale haggard face, his dark hair disheveled, eyes red-rimmed, tie askew. He looked like he had been drinking and crying. The look of shocked recognition in Keith's face said it all and Nathan almost trips on his own feet as he tries to back away, the door so damn far away from him.

After a moment of heavy, awkward silence, Nathan mumbles, "Hey, Uncle Keith," and immediately winces as soon as the greeting slips out of his mouth. After years of not seeing and talking to his uncle, that's all he has to say. _Hey uncle Keith_. He smiles weakly, apologetically at the realization. He stands awkwardly in front of his uncle whose face suddenly becomes filled with confusion and then slowly, replaced with wonder and then bright, unmistakable joy.

"Nathan!" Keith all but chortles, his face lighting up as he takes a step towards him and before Nathan knows what's happening, he's hugging his uncle. It's been so long. The fierceness of this hug almost knocks the breath from out of his lungs. "Oh, Nate, it is so good to see you again!" Keith says as they finally let go of each other.

Nathan looks at Keith in wonder. Not sure why he's getting such a warm welcome. It's the last thing he expected but this does not change the fact that it's a pleasant surprise, to find that his uncle did not quite hate him as he had once thought. But then, his uncle had always been the one warm, glowing person in their angry dysfunctional bitter family.

He remembers his uncle Keith, when he used to visit them, how he'd always pull him aside and tell him that families are important, that it's something that would always be there, would never go away no matter what. Nothing changes it. Not envy or disappointment or cutting words said in an argument, not even distance or death. Nathan is sure - dreading it even - that now that his uncle had seen him, those same familiar words of wisdom would come tumbling out and this time, it wouldn't sound like hopeful advise but something definitely, infinitely full of regret. It was one of the reasons why he didn't want to see his uncle during his father's, and now his brother's, wake. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand Keith's disappointment in him. No matter how badly his father and his uncle's relationship had turned out, Keith always made sure to call Nathan once in a while just to tell him how proud he was of him. Nathan had learned to count on that, to look forward to it even. Even though back then, he had not been able to fully appreciate it.

"Uncle Keith," Nathan starts uncertain, "I'm sorry about..."

"I know. I know." He answers, tapping him in the shoulder. "I saw you at the wake."

Nathan thinks he's had enough surprises for the day, but they just keep on coming at him. He feels his heart sink into his stomach. "You did? I'm... I didn't mean to intrude or trespass or anything like that and I'm sorry about that too... I was kind of hiding from you, actually." He admits almost sheepishly.

Keith nods his head in understanding. "I got the sense that you were."

"I thought, maybe you wouldn't want me to be there." Nathan looks away, his jaws tightly clenching.

"Are you kidding me? Why in God's name would you think that?" Keith grabs on to his shoulder, squaring it as he forces Nathan to look at him. "Sure, I was surprised as hell to see you there but I'm proud of you Nathan. Really, I am. When I saw you at Karen's, I was really proud of you. I just..." Keith's voice falters and Nathan steels himself for the worst, "I just didn't think I could talk to you without getting emotional and I didn't think you needed to see your uncle being all weepy and snotty." The light teasing tone eases some of the tension away. "But honestly, Nathan, you don't know how proud I was of you at that moment. I know it must have taken a lot of courage to go and be there for the wake. For Lucas."

"I... I did more for me, I think." Nathan mumbles, letting out a sigh, followed by a choked chuckle. He thought maybe Keith would be angry and disappointed. How is it possible that his uncle could be proud of him? If he hadn't known his uncle, Nathan would think that Keith is lying to him but his uncle had always been an honest man and Nathan can see the sincerity in his uncle's kind eyes. He feels grateful that after everything that had happened, he still has a family in Keith. A part of him feels like he doesn't really deserve it.

"No you didn't. You're not as selfish as you think you are and I know that it wouldn't really mean much since we barely talk anymore but I know you Nathan, I saw you grow up. You're a good person. You should know that."

 _You learn kindness as you go on in life_ , that's what Keith used to tell him. _It's never too late for anything, Nate. People become who they are because of the choices they make - don't ever forget that._

Keith used to tell him a lot of things back when he was still young. Everything about basketball he learned from his father. The rest from his uncle Keith. His uncle always had something nice to say and Nathan remembers everything that Keith had told him, although clearly, he hadn't taken it into heart. Both his grandfather and his father used to say how his Uncle Keith was too soft, all hearts - never really a Scott - not made of steel, not determined, not strong enough to go for his dreams, to take what should've been his. Keith is the kind of guy who'd never hurt anyone, who'd take the blows intended for his brother even though he knows he's not going to get a word of thanks for it. In short, his uncle was weak.

Nathan had always felt a little sorry for his uncle and Keith seemed to have always known that his nephew looks at him with something akin to pity. Keith was probably the only person in Nathan's life who might have been able to teach him how to become a decent guy but Dan had always told him not to listen to his uncle Keith, not unless he wants to be just like him - the son who never lived up to Royal Scott's expectation. A nobody.

Later in life, when he got older, when he started asking his father what happened to his uncle Keith and how come he never saw him anymore, Dan would only say that Keith had abandoned and betrayed his own family. Nathan never really knew what happened between his uncle and his father, never really took the trouble to ask Keith about it and he feels guilty now - had always felt guilty about it - when he quietly went along with his father and his grandfather as they tried to erase Keith from their lives.

This is what happens when you listen to the wrong people, Nathan thinks. You get sucked in into the lie. You get trapped in it.

The month Keith moved away from Tree Hill, things in the house had been tense and for weeks, Nathan remembers doing his best to be the perfect obedient son, aware that one smart assed comment from him would mean more than just being sent to bed without dinner or worse, grounded for a week, no Playstation, no basketball. His mom had packed up and left them for some important business meeting over in Chicago and silence had enveloped the house. Complete, utter, suffocating silence.

Dan, for the first and only time, ignored their scheduled morning jogs and afternoon basketball drills at their backyard. He let Nathan and Tim go off wandering around town and come home pretty much any time they wanted and for almost a month, Nathan was freed from the rigorous training that his father implemented with military precision and for a while he had been like any other kid, goofing around with his friends, hanging out by the parks where he got to meet and play with the older, cooler juniors and seniors - some of them members of the varsity basketball team. And as though he knew he that this freedom could not possibly last, he took everything in - huge, big gulps and dosages - the party scene, in particular loved him. And while his parents were busily ignoring him, he was essentially being slowly ushered in into the coolest crowds of Tree Hill. Just when he was getting used to his father's sudden disinterest in him and his mother's absence, one day, the incredible happened: Deb came home and Dan went back to happily bullying him into hours after hours after hours of basketball drills.

Back with a vengeance that is.

Lay ups. Jump shots. Offense. Defense. Free throws. Dribbling exercises. Blocking exercise. More miles to run. More games to watch and discuss. More _everything_ that eventually, Coach Durham had no choice but to transfer him from the JV to Senior team. Coach did not have a choice, Nathan was making the JV team look better than the senior varsity team. It was simply not acceptable that the JVs were winning more games while the senior team got their asses kicked game after game after humiliating game.

That was when basketball officially took over his life and everything else slipped away. Including his uncle Keith. Last he heard, from Dan of course, was that Keith had moved in with Karen and his father had sneeringly added how Keith had always wanted his hand me downs. His father could be such an ass sometimes.

But back then, Nathan couldn't help but think that that Keith had chosen Lucas over him. It didn't help that he also got plenty of little snide comments from his dad too about Keith and Lucas doing father and son basketball games over at Oak Lake. It didn't help that the few times he got to see his uncle was during the games they had with Oak Lake, with Keith wearing nothing but the color green, proudly cheering for Lucas. And he had somehow effectively, just as his father had done, cut off his ties with his uncle Keith.

And now, Keith had just lost Lucas - had lost another nephew all over again - maybe not even a nephew, maybe more like a son and Nathan could only imagine what it must be like for Keith. Nathan wishes there's something he could do to ease Keith's pain. He isn't looking to replace Lucas, not by a long shot, but maybe this was his chance to be the nephew Keith had always thought him to be. He wants that second chance and even without having to say anything to Keith, he seems to know exactly what Nathan is thinking.

Keith pats him affectionately on the cheeks. "I've missed you, you know."

"I've missed you too Uncle Keith and I'm sorry for being such an ass and never returning your phone calls."

Keith shakes his head. "Hey, look, I understand ok. It must have been hard on you watching me and your dad try to rip each other's head off every time we're inside the same room."

"It's not just that." Nathan adds with a shake of his own head. He opens his mouth to tell Keith but finds it hard to put everything into words. Sorry seems so inadequate and he needs to explain to his uncle that more than anything, it was his fault, he had let his father's lie poison his relationship with Keith.

"I know Nate and I should have made it clear that I wasn't choosing one over the other. I love you both equally." Keith said, squeezing his shoulders.

Nathan feels his heart constricting almost painfully. But it's more out of gratefulness and joy than anything else. "Thanks." He mumbles, his throat aching.

Keith playfully smiles as he affectionately punches Nathan by the shoulder before bringing his hand to his face, as though to clear any signs of what might have been tears on his eyes. "Boy am I glad to see you again, have I said that already?"

Nathan laughs. "Yeah you did." It's odd how he and his uncle can be so... _okay_ with being somewhat slightly emotional over getting to see each other again. It feels good. It feels like family. Like there's really no need for words anymore and that everything will be alright now.

"Good. I just want you to know that and hopefully, this isn't just some onetime thing. How'd you know I'd be here anyway?" Keith asks, raising his eyebrows.

Nathan is immediately reminded of why he came here in the first place. He feels his face suddenly getting extremely warm and he wishes to God he isn't blushing. Although, really, there isn't any reason for him to be blushing at all, in the first place. He clears his throat. "I ugh, I didn't. I was looking for... a friend of Lucas." Dammit, why does he always end up roping himself into situations like this? He didn't want anyone else to know about how he's been looking for Haley James all over Oak Lake for the past hour and half, because he can't quite explain it to himself why he has to see her and why he just can't forget about it and drive back home, live his life away from Oak Lake and everything else that has got to do with Lucas. Most especially Haley James.

In his mind, he keeps on seeing the way she looked the last time he'd seen her, right before he was shoved out of the door by Jake and Tim. She looked like she wanted to tell him something. It was in her eyes, the way she was looking at him and however ridiculous it may sound, Nathan is sure that whatever it is that she has to say, he has to hear it. And that he'd regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't find her now and talk to her.

Keith gives him a strange look and after a few second of silence, his eyebrows still raised, he asks: "You don't mean Damien West do you?" Nathan sputters for a few second and his uncle chuckles. "Relax Nathan. I was only teasing you."

"I... I'm looking for Haley, actually."

Keith's eyebrows rise almost to the roots of his hair. " _Lucas's_ Haley, as in Haley James?"

Nathan scratches his head before running it down his hair. A nervous habit he had never been able to get rid of. Well, this is certainly going to be hard to explain. Harder than trying to overcome the years that he and his uncle had never got to talk. He swallows slowly, trying to choose his words. "Yeah. I got to talk to her this morning and I just... I'm a little worried about her. I just thought maybe I could... I don't know really. I just..."

"Try the cemetery."

They both turn their heads towards the source of the voice.

Keith immediately takes a step towards the small woman who was still wearing her black dress. She walks into the room, through the kitchen door, her eyes never leaving Nathan's for a second.

Nathan swallows hard, keeps still and anxiously tries his best to remind himself to breathe. And to be polite. He's not so good at being polite, something that has never really bothered him before, until now. He keeps his back straight as he watches Keith stand beside her, putting an arm around her, keeping her close to his side.

"Karen, sweetie, I thought you said you're going to take a nap."

Nathan's heart lurches inside his chest as he realizes that Karen is still looking at him. He had never seen Lucas's mom before. He didn't know what he could tell her that she might even be interested in listening to. After all, he was the boy who had been the cause of a lot - if not all - of her pain and sufferings. He feels as though he's suddenly become smaller or younger. Their eyes lock for a brief second before and there is something so direct about her stare that Nathan couldn't quite make himself look away. He winces internally. Way to go Nathan! He mentally, sarcastically cheers at himself. He had successfully avoided both Karen and Keith in the wake and now here they were - all alone together in one room. He just had to come back to Oak Lake for this.

Karen turns to briefly look at Keith, gently touching her hands to his cheeks. "I couldn't sleep. I don't want to sleep actually." She brings her hand down and Keith is quick to catch it and hold on to it.

Nathan feels even more like an intruder now. He feels like he's watching something that he's not supposed to see. That he has no right to see. But he can't help it; he openly stares at Karen and notices her red-rimmed eyes - the only thing that indicates what she had just lost today and how much she's suffering for it. And yet he sees and senses the intensity of her mourning, the dignity of her grief. Her clear, heavy gaze makes Nathan feel unworthy to be in her presence, especially after everything that he had put Lucas through.

"Hello, Nathan."

The greeting is gentle, soft. Not at all cold or laced with steel as Nathan had expected. Not that he thought badly of Mrs. Roe, but because he thought that he deserves it if Mrs. Roe treated him like dirt. For a moment, Nathan can't find his voice. He's startled - once again - by the kindness in Karen's voice. It takes him another full second before he slowly starts to nod his head and somehow, finally he manages to get a few simple words out. "Hello Mrs. Roe. I'm sorry about Lucas." He says this slowly, with delicate care and he feels somewhat better when Karen gives him a small smile.

"Me too. Thank you for coming today. It means a lot to me and I'm sure to Lucas as well."

Nathan feels the genuineness of her words, how heart wrenching it must have been for her to say them out loud and he didn't want to mar it with another useless apology, he nods his head in quiet acceptance.

"I'm a little worried about Haley myself." Karen continues in that same gentle voice. "She's been like a daughter to me and I love her dearly."

Nathan wonders if Karen can see right through him and he desperately wants to tell her that he has no hope of ever replacing Lucas in Haley's life. All he wants really is to see her again, even if it's just for this one day. He's never going to bother Haley or anyone else again, he just wants to talk to her some more, she's been the only one he has ever spoken with about his father and he wanted just a few more minutes of that with her. He opens his mouth to say all these, as politely as he could, but Karen beats him to it.

"She has a lot of friends," she informs him casually and Nathan could feel his heart sinking. If Mrs. Roe doesn't want him anywhere near Haley, he can understand why and for Lucas and for Haley's sake, he'd stay away. Mrs. Roe just needed to say those words and he'll go driving back to Tree Hill and he'd never ever return here again but...

"Mrs. Roe," Nathan starts, interrupting Karen and he mentally curses himself. So much for being polite but he isn't just about to give up. He looks down at Karen almost pleadingly, but he was met with the same clear, kind eyes.

"But I think," Karen goes on, her voice louder this time, "she doesn't want to be with friends who'd remind her of Lucas." She pauses and takes a deep breath and Nathan thinks, this is it; she's going to tell me that I should stay the hell away from Haley. He bites the insides of his cheeks, tries to keep up a brave front. He'll say yes and if pressed, he'd promise too. He'd give them his words and not even think about breaking them. He'd vow never to go anywhere near Haley James ever again and he's going to go back to living the empty life he had been living. A price to pay for all the years that he had acted so selfishly.

"Go on and look for her, she needs someone to look after her and since Lucas isn't here to do that anymore... well, she's going to need someone, right?"

"I'm really sorry Mrs. Roe," Nathan apologizes in a rush, not even daring to look at Keith, keeping his eyes levelled with Lucas's mom. "I know you think I have no right to even..." he pauses, as Karen's words filtered through his brain. _Wait, what?_ Nathan closes his mouth, doesn't say anything. He doesn't know how to respond to that, is actually afraid that Mrs. Roe would take her words back. He stands in front of her in complete silence and he thinks, almost amused that this is the most behaved he has ever been in front of adults.

"Isn't Haley afraid of the cemetery?" Keith butts in, looking almost comically confused.

Karen smiles at this. "Oh, Keith, you know I think she only acts scared so Luke would feel like a good, brave boy out to protect her." There's a sparkle in her eyes, barely there but it catches Nathan attention and he's certain that if Mrs. Roe had stayed with Dan, that spark would've have been snuffed out from her. He had seen the same thing happened to his mother.

Dan seems hell bent on ruining that people that loved and loves him and he doesn't even seem to be aware of it. Could it be possible that not only did his father sucked as dad, as a brother, as husband but also as a person? Nathan winces at the thought. No. He won't believe that. He can resent his father all he wants, be bitter with their relationship, but he could never betray Dan like that. His father had made mistakes and Nathan thinks - holds on to hope - that his dad would have tried to make things better, if only his life had not been cut short. He clutches at this belief fervently. It was the only way he could still love his dad despite and in spite of everything.

Karen turns her attention back to Nathan, "It's not hard to find it. You just go straight through Main Street, past the chapel and you turn right."

Nathan briefly forgets about his father as he is suddenly filled with wonder. He isn't sure if this is actually happening to him. Someone trusting him. Someone trusting him with someone that they loved – it scared him. He's already afraid of the intensity of how badly he wants see Haley again but this is just bringing his fear into new, stellar heights. "Thank you, Mrs. Roe." He manages to mumble out through his burning throat.

Karen stares up at Keith and smiles at him before addressing Nathan once more. "I hope you come and visit Keith some time."

Nathan nods his head. "If it's okay with you Mrs. Roe."

"Of course it's okay with me. Keith has been talking about you non-stop all these years."

Nathan smiles at Keith, feels his heart swelling. "I will. I promise." And this time, Nathan means it.


	9. Nine

**_Nine_ **

Cotton white clouds drift overhead, silent, slow and dream-like. It's a lazy summer day and Nathan changes his mind about today being just beautiful. It's gorgeous. The kind where you're supposed to be looking up and thanking the heavens for everything that you have. Like being alive. He's not sure if he can do that right now, especially since he's currently on his way to stand over his brother's grave.

His brother's grave. It's so… _wrong_. To be thinking of it, to be saying that phrase out loud. It feels like his brain has accepted it, but other parts of him hasn't yet. Like his conscience, for one thing.

Nathan takes long strides, his leg muscles stretching and aching as he walked up over a hill. He had asked the guard by the gate where Lucas was buried and even the guard knew Lucas.

"Poor kid. Everyone liked him. Just not right, you know? Dying so young and all."

Looks as though everyone's general consensus about death is it's only a tragedy if you're haven't gotten past thirty. Or at least had not yet fathered two sons or divorced a wife, had gone to places, had tasted power and success. That sort of thing. If that's the case, he didn't want to die like this, like a tragedy. He's going to start living his life. Really living it. Nathan feels like he's on the verge of figuring out just how to do it and maybe, in a way, Lucas kind of helped him get to this point.

Nathan has heard about this sort of thing happening: people going through their lives, everything becoming just one tedious day after another and then all of a sudden, you wake up and finally realize that life is precious – all those numerous cheesy clichés his parent's marriage counselor used to throw at them during the few counseling sessions that he was required to attend. He'd always secretly and sometimes not so secretly sneered at those. He never believed in them but today, right now, he's determined to change that.

He's not going to be a sad, sorry lost little boy with a dead father and brother. He's going to be better than that and hopefully it would mean that he had lived a life that wasn't a complete let down to what his father had wanted from him. That he had lived a life somewhere closer to what Lucas might have had if he hadn't gotten into that car and died so suddenly.

Nathan feels that this just might be his last second chance and so he's going to do everything he can to get past all these. Make peace with everyone: his dad, his mom, Lucas. Maybe then he'd be able to forgive and forget. Maybe then he could wake up in the morning and feel like he deserves to be here, to be alive.

Taking a deep breath, he stops at the foot of the hill, eyes scanning the place. It's exactly how the guard had described it to him. It's not like he'd missed it anyhow. There are about a hundred flowers surrounding Lucas's grave and probably a thousand crushed petals still lying on the ground. It's a typical sight. He remembers walking away from his father's own grave, looking back and seeing the same thing. What surprises him is the lone figure standing over the newly placed headstone. No one stayed behind at his father's grave when it was time to go home. Everyone arm in arm, eyes still wet and stinging with tears. In black droves, they all walked away from Dan Scott.

Nathan walks closer, his shoes leaving imprints against the soft dark earth. A light breeze dances between him and the girl standing by Lucas's grave, her black dress gently fluttering with the wind. She makes a solemn picture, standing so very still, like an angel of sorrow. He doesn't make a sound, at least as far as he knows but the girl slowly turns her head around and raises her eyebrows at him.

"Hey, babe, can I help you with something?" Her voice is husky and broken. The kind, if she hadn't been crying since God knows when, would sound sultry even if she doesn't want it to sound that way. She has her arms tightly wrapped around herself, like she's trying to keep herself warm even though it's practically the height of summer.

Nathan takes a small step back as he finds himself staring at a widow's face. He'd seen that expression before. From his mom the day she told him his dad had died at the hospital. Broken, stoic, pale, tear-streaked, even the faded-red painted lips is startlingly the same. His eyes wanders over to the headstone and sure enough, there's a mark of a last farewell kiss on the smooth gray-white marble bearing Lucas's name, date of birth, date of death.

"Babe, you know, I'd really like to be alone." She tells him carefully, as though trying not to offend him but her tone clearly says that she's about to lose her patience. She turns her face away, bows it a little, her eyes focusing on Lucas' headstone. "You can come again some other time, but today it's just me and Luke, okay?"

Nathan mumbles an apology. He hadn't meant to interfere. He takes a deep breath, looks around, thinks about where else Haley could be. He has no idea where to start looking for her. Oak Lake is a big town and he's more than likely to spend the whole afternoon driving around, completely, totally lost. He didn't want to go back to the café. He didn't want to intrude again on his Uncle Keith and Karen's grief. He glances back at the girl who seemed to have forgotten that he's still there.

He makes up his mind. He isn't leaving Oak Lake, not just yet. Not without seeing Haley. "I'm sorry, excuse me, I just…ugh," he stammers a little, clears his throat and straightens his shoulder. "I'm looking for Haley."

The girl visibly stiffens, like he had just shot her or something. She twists her neck towards him, eyes searching his face. Nathan meets her gaze, frowning a little. He starts to wonder where he had seen her before. He feels a nagging sense of…something familiar, just by looking at her.

A few seconds later, the girl mirrors his frown, scowls darkly at him and then in an unmistakable cold voice, she says: "Broody's Tutor Girl."

"What?" He asks, confused at the sudden display of hostility.

"She's not here." The tone is dismissive and so is the hand gesture that followed. She focuses her attention back to Lucas' grave, clearly expecting that the next time she turns around, she wouldn't find him there.

It hits Nathan. She was the same girl Peyton had been talking to right after they had taken Lucas's coffin out of the chapel. The angry girl. Nathan isn't going to let some angry chick get in the way of finding Haley. Something tells him that she knows where Haley is. "Would you know where-"

With a heavy sigh, the girl drops her arms, does a graceful half-pirouette and pins him with her stare. "You're Nathan aren't you?"

Nathan feels as though he's been sucker punched, suddenly stripped off the mask that he's been wearing all these time. He didn't know how it's possible that this girl – and not just any other girl, but a girl standing by Lucas's grave – would know who he is. "I don't…" he starts off, going through the murky memories of his past, trying to place a name on her face, but coming up empty.

"Nathan Scott." The girl declares and then adds with conviction, "Lucas's younger half-brother." Narrowing her eyes, that were glittering not with tears but with anger, she whispers through gritted teeth, "I know all about you."

Utterly confused, Nathan shakes his head, forgets to deny the unvoiced accusation of cruelty or any of the sins he had committed in the past, instead, he asks in a slightly shaking voice. "I... have we met before?"

The girl snorts out loud, shakes her head. "No, I don't think so. I stayed in Tree Hill for a whole summer with my mom before junior high but then I got shipped to LA to live with my dad. It's a custody thing."

"I never...I don't," Nathan pauses, takes a deep breath, not wanting to offend her any more than he already had. "I don't remember you." He tells her sincerely, almost apologetically, even though it can't be helped that he didn't know her. For one thing, he didn't have so many friends growing up. He lived in a kind of bubble. It has to be expected of him. After all, if you think about it, basketball – high school, college, even professional – it really is a small world. Nathan's whole life encompassed only two things: playing and winning. And the truth was, in all the four years he played high school basketball, there was no real relationship ever built. It was more of a hierarchy, really. His father at the top, then his coach, then his teammates, then the cheerleaders who'd hang out with them – which included his girlfriend of the month and all the rest were outsiders. People who didn't belong to the world of playing and winning. Small world, all inside the bubble.

And anyway, she had only stayed in Tree Hill for a month. There is no way he could've known her. But she would definitely have known him. And how he's connected with Lucas.

"Brooke Davis." She states, the anger in her voice still present. "And I remember you."

"Why, cause I was jerk to you?" Nathan can't help the defensive tone in his voice. Can't help but feel as though he's being treated so unfairly over something he had done in high school. "Or was it because I didn't pay you any attention?"

"Oh my God." Brooke rolls her eyes, chuckling a little. "Wow, you're still the same self-absorbed bastard, aren't you?" She gives him a cold, long hard look. "Unfortunately, I didn't stay in Tree Hill long enough to be brushed aside by the cool, popular kids." The sarcasm cuts through her sugary voice. "And it wasn't something that you did to me. It was something you did to someone I love."

The silence surrounding them seems to have answered the question: _who_? And Nathan couldn't deny the truth of that statement. He had been a complete bastard to Lucas and maybe, that sort of thing, you do carry it with you all the time. Even if it had been years ago, every taunt must have still felt like fresh wounds. And he understands, really he does, why Brooke could still be so mad at him. He hangs his head low, mutters apologies that wouldn't mean anything. Excuses like _: I was a kid back then. I didn't know any better_. Because those weren't excuses, they were lies. He had known better. He just didn't do what was right.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Brooke asks after a few seconds, not bothering to hide her dismayed tone. She seems awfully offended by Nathan's mere presence.

Nathan shoves his hand inside his jeans, clutches his hand in tight fists. Question of the day. He wishes he can easily answer that but there is no one, simple neat little answer. "I heard about what Lucas-"

Brooke quirks her eyebrows up."Yeah? From who?" She asks the question bitingly, giving him a suspicious glare. "Didn't know you and Luke had a common friend." Her delicate eyebrows furrows together in a frown as she takes a small step closer towards Nathan, sneering into his face. "Didn't you call Lucas bastard all the time?"

Nathan snaps his head, glares at Brooke. "I never called him that."

"Oh, right, you let _your_ friends call him that." Her voice is heinously sweet. She purses her lips and slants her eyes. "And by the way, you should stay the hell away from Haley. She doesn't need another Damien West." The way she says West's name, it was as though he was nothing but dirt, had done nothing but hurt Haley in the worst possible way.

Nathan feels the heat rushing from his chest to his scalp. It stings and burns and through tightly gritted teeth, he barely makes out, "I am nothing like West."

Brooke smiles sadly at him, a look of pity cutting through her features. "You are Nathan. You're exactly like him. If not worst. Can't fight who you are, Scott."

Nathan feels his jaws working as he bites his tongue for the retort he keeps locked inside his head. He knows that she's trying to be cruel. Her voice is wavering, probably from trying to keep herself from crying and he could almost sympathize with her. He remembers how he had lashed out at anyone who tried to talk to him after his father's death. It must be some sort of grief-reflex. Like a knee-jerk reaction. She's probably feeling the way he had been feeling the day they buried his father. Angry at Lucas, for dying out on her. But then, you aren't supposed to be angry with the dead, so you turn that anger towards yourself.

Or at least that was what his mother's hired grief-counselor had told him. He didn't really need someone with a degree on psychology from some pansy-assed, ivy-league school to tell him that. Of course he was furious with his father. He wasn't supposed to die. Nathan was used to having his father throw their lives upside down but this was a new low, even for Dan Scott. And yeah, he was beyond angry with himself, because he feels as though he had been cheated out of something.

The last time he saw his father, Dan had been bitching about how Nathan had unceremoniously announced to the world that he was seriously considering the offer from San Antonio to play for the Spurs. His father had been livid.

"The plan was Boston, Nathan. Not Texas. Go get a map son; they're not even in the same time zone. I can't imagine how you can confuse one from the other."

But Nathan wasn't confused. And he sure as hell knew about the plan, since everything had been mapped out for him the day his first shot made the basket. But it was his father's plan, it wasn't his and dammit, he wanted to makes decisions for himself. It was his life. He wasn't a little boy anymore, for God's sake. And okay, San Antonio may be the wrong, impulsive choice, but it seemed far enough from Tree Hill. He knew his father - Dan wasn't going to uproot his whole life for his son. It was the escape route he had been looking for. He figured his dad would throw a fit, skulk about it but in the end he would just have to respect and accept his choices.

He had been a little too optimistic about that. His mistake.

"You play for Boston or you don't play at all."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Are you sure you really want to find out, Nathan?"

"You know what dad, this is my life and I'm going to live it that way I want to. Away from you."

His father had muttered something about picking the wrong son and that had set Nathan's temper off. "Wow, I feel the same thing. Look at that, there's actually something we can both agree on. I wish you had just packed your bags and left college to go be with your high school sweetheart, that way, you could've ruined someone else's life."

"Is that how you feel, Nathan, that I've ruined your life?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

And those were the last three words he had told his father.

It really was a typical father and son conversation, the kind he and his father was known for and it would have been just that if only his father hadn't died so suddenly. The truth is, Nathan had said things more cruel than that, but still… he wishes there was a way to take those words back. He hadn't meant it.

Nathan shakes his head, clearing his mind off the memory. He heaves a heavy sigh as he switches his attention back to the present. Back to Brooke. "You can be mad at me all you want for the way I treated Lucas but you don't know me. You don't have any right to tell me that." He meets Brooke's defiant glare and in a lowered, gentle voice he adds, "I'm sorry about what happened." And without waiting for a response, he turns his head and briskly walks away.

"Wait, wait!" Brooke calls from behind him. Turning his head, Nathan watches as she half-jogs, half-stumbles over to him, her high heeled shoes making small puncture wounds against the slightly damp earth.

Wet from tears? Nathan isn't quick to dismiss the idea, especially after seeing the many mourners who had come to his brother's wake. Brooke stumbles in front of him and Nathan is quick to grab her elbow, pulling her up. This close, the rich scent of something cloyingly sweet and definitely something alcoholic fills his nostrils. It takes him a second or two to identify the smell: whiskey.

Nathan feels his eyebrows rising. "You shouldn't be drinking." He tells her as he helps her up, steady on her feet. She didn't seem drunk minutes ago. Nathan peers into her eyes and is a little relieved to find them clear and alert.

Brooke frowns and looks up at him, blinking. "Really?" She asks in the same sarcastic tone.

Nathan doesn't answer. It there is one event people are excused from drinking, it's a funeral. There are a lot of ways to drown out sorrow and numb away the pain – but none as popular or as easy as with a bottle filled with your poison of choice. Besides, he had drunk himself practically into a comatose when his father died, who was he to tell Brooke what to do?

Brooke finally sighs, dropping the callous tone. "I know. Lucas doesn't like it either. When I drink, that is." She places a hand against her forehead, her black nail polish matching her somber, angry mood. "Hell, I don't like it either."

Nathan shoves his hands inside his pocket, unsure of where this conversation would lead. He's eager to get going and find Haley. But he can't just leave yet. He thinks it's just heartless to leave Brooke out here, even though she had asked just minutes ago to be left alone. No one wants to be left alone in a cemetery. "So why do you?" He asks, tilting his head, trying to figure her out – another piece of the puzzle in his brother's life.

"'Cause, I dunno, it helps a little." She bends her head down, her hands groping inside her small purse, plucking out a familiar looking silver flask. Brooke wordlessly stares at it before turning her attention back to him, offering him the drink, a small tentative smile curling up her lips.

It's an apology of sorts, Nathan guesses and he hesitates for only a fraction of a second before taking it from her proffered hands. He lifts the flask in a silent, solemn salute, eyes locked on Lucas's headstone. He takes a huge swig, tastes the all too familiar sour-mesh of whiskey with a splash of seltzer. God, he needed that. He just realized it now. He takes another quick, healthy swallow before returning the flask to Brooke who drops it back inside her purse. Nathan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry about what I said. You were right, I don't know you. I shouldn't have said those things."

Nathan shrugs his shoulder. She really isn't sorry, he could tell but he's really not that offended. Not anymore. Now that he had time to consider what she had said. It still stings but she was telling the truth. He had been the Damien West of Tree Hill High. What was the point in denying that anyway?

He watches as Brooke turns towards Lucas's grave, standing out, stark white. "God, I miss him already!" Brooke blurts out, "What will I do tomorrow and next week and next month and the month after that?"

Move on. What else? But something tells him that Brooke just isn't ready to hear that yet. The pleading tone in her voice wants a different answer and Nathan isn't sure if she's ready to accept the fact that this is where Lucas ends. It's sad and abrupt and maybe even cruel, but, hey that's life. Nathan realizes that he isn't the best person to offer kind, supportive words. Not that there are any, with this kind of situations, but he's never been good with words and with showing empathy. He takes a deep breath, the taste of whiskey still swirling in his mouth. "Look, I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't be here. I have-"

"It's okay. I guess..." Brooke said, interrupting him. "I just wanted to be alone with him for a little while, you know."

Nathan follows Brooke's eyes, wincing at the lost-little girl voice. She doesn't seem to be aware that she had dropped the coy 'babe' she had been using early on. He glances back at her, notices her long, graceful neck. She's a real pretty girl. The usual kind of pretty. The kind Nathan would've been interested in, years ago. It's a good thing she had escaped from Tree Hill – he didn't think he could handle another ex-girlfriend popping out for Lucas's funeral. Strange how he and his brother seem to be drawn to the same girls: Peyton. Brooke. Haley.

Although Nathan can't figure out how to connect the three girls. They're all so different from one another and yet they seem to rotate around his older brother. Lucas was their sun and now without him, they're all lost and alone. In a dark place.

"Do you want to know something funny?" Nathan asks, then pauses, reconsidering. "Or not funny. I'm not sure which." He waits for Brooke's nod and then, with a deep sigh, he mutters a confession. "Peyton and I used to date. In fact she's been my first and only serious girlfriend."

He's never admitted that before.

Brooke's eyes widen with disbelief and then with mild amusement. "You're kidding me."

Nathan shakes his head. "No, I'm not. We dated when we were in college."

"Peyton never mentioned anything about you." She frowns a little, "But then again, Peyton and I aren't exactly friends. In fact the only reason she and I are even talking is because of Lucas." Brooke's face twist into a smile-cringe. Nathan can tell that she's thinking about what this means. Whether Lucas had known. Whether Peyton had known.

"You and Peyton. Small world." She mumbles, more to herself.

"You can say that again."

Brooke straightens her back, gives Nathan a long look. "Let me guess, Peyton doesn't know that you and Lucas are half-brothers." Nathan nods his head, a little too reluctantly and Brooke is quick to notice as she gives him a questioning look. Silently asking how the world manages to get two estranged brother to date one girl – maybe even fall in love with her – and not be aware of it.

"I never really talked about Lucas. Not to anyone." Nathan explains, the same sense of guilt tugging at him.

Brooke turns her attention back to Lucas's grave, smiling softly. "Well, this is really weird, isn't it, Broody? It's the oldest story in history. Two brothers, one girl. I know how you hated stories like that." She starts off towards Lucas's headstone, gently touching it, brushing away imaginary dusts that have yet to settle. It's almost a tender gesture. Like knuckles brushing against a cheek. "Your half-brother dated your precious Peyton." Brooke sneaks a quick glance at him and then dropping her hands, she adds in a voice meant to be heard, "And now he wants Haley too."

Nathan jerks his head, feeling his face flush, "I don't..." He starts off but Brooke cuts him off, still talking to Lucas.

"If you hadn't died on that stupid accident, I bet you'd be having a heart attack just about right now." Brooke tells Lucas, her tone is light, almost joking but Nathan can sense something vicious in her voice. She's back to being furious again and Nathan is sure that he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of that anger once more.

"I think I better go." He tells her backing away.

"Do you want to know something funny? Or not funny. I'm not really sure which too." Brooke turns around, facing him. "But, here it is. The truth: I saw him last. I kissed him last. I made him not be Luke, 'cause Luke, he's really good, you know? The honest kind of good. The kind that's very rare. The kind that wouldn't cheat. And I just... I couldn't stand it. I wanted him too. He loved me first! He was... he was going back to me and we were going to tell Peyton, we really were."

The revelation isn't a revelation anymore. Somewhere during their conversation, Nathan has pieced the puzzle together. Brooke had gotten the story wrong. Its two girls and one boy. And that's the oldest story ever. "Am I really the one who you're supposed to be telling this?" He carefully asks.

Brooke brokenly shakes her head. Something in her must've snapped, because the tears she's been trying to fight back suddenly bursts forth and she staggers back into Lucas's grave, her hand clutching the cold (Nathan imagines it to be cold) marble.

"No." She sobs, letting her tears run down her cheeks. "But she'll never forgive me. Because of me...I didn't want to… I didn't want to hurt her that way. Oh, God, Luke," She twists her body, kneels on the ground. She's partially draped, partially hugging Lucas's gravestone. "Luke, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, sorry."

Nathan has never seen a girl be so broken. He swallows hard, takes a tentative step towards her, not sure of what he's supposed to do, but wanting, needing her to stop crying. He can't stand the awful sound of her sobbing. She sounds just like his mom whenever she locks herself inside the bathroom, thinking he wasn't inside the house. "Hey, now... hey, don't cry."

Brooke stops him with an outstretched hand and Nathan stays rooted to his place. He hears her sniffling, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. "I'm fine. I'm fine." She mutters like a well-practiced mantra. He watches as she wipes her tears away, fingers angrily brushing against her cheekbones. Taking a deep, watery breath, Brooke finally faces him and Nathan is surprised to realize that she's smiling at him. Beneath her crumpled, tear-stain face, there's that same apologetic smile she had given him earlier.

"Look, hey," She starts off, pausing to sniff, "if you're looking for Haley, try the basketball court at the park. When you find her, can you please tell her that I'm sorry? I can't face her. She's so disappointed in me. And in Lucas and I know Haley, she's hurting because of it."

Nathan feels his heart suddenly starting up. "I thought you said I shouldn't see Haley."

Brooke nods her head, wincing a little. "Luke is _so_ not going to like this." She lets out a strangled sound, like maybe a chuckle or another sob, Nathan isn't sure which. "Bu you'll eventually find her anyway, who am I to keep you from her, right? And anyway, I know what it’s like," Brooke tells him solemnly, her eyes meeting his, her voice soft but certain. "Not to be able to turn and just walk away."

Nathan feels his jaws slackening, his mouth going dry. He swallows hard. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do."


	10. Ten - Interlude

**_Ten - Interlude_ **

The only reason Lucas decided to go to Stanford was Haley. If it had not been for her, he would've happily accepted and gone to practically anywhere, just not so far away from North Carolina. Or Oak Lake for that matter. But Haley insisted on Stanford.

She sat him down one day, at the beginning of the senior year. "Check this out, Stanford Libraries contains more than eight million volumes." She looked up at him expectantly; brown eyes growing huge, her smile warm and encouraging. "Lucas, can you imagine having eight million books to read?"

It sounded like heaven to Lucas. He can visualize it inside his head. Endless rows of books lined up from floor to ceiling, the smell of old paper, the feel of a leather-bound spine, golden embossed letters. Eight million titles all waiting for to be read and discovered. Haley wasn't his best friend for nothing. She knows his weakness. But still, he didn't promise her anything.

He'd gotten letters from several schools and scouts. But he wasn't going to play basketball anymore, so that didn't matter. The scholarship would be great, but he'd have to work harder than before. His basketball statistics was virtually useless, he'd have to rely solely on his grades – which weren't so bad to begin with, but wasn't stellar enough to earn him a full scholarship. Keith had offered to help pay for his college and even if his first instinct was to say 'No, Uncle Keith, this isn't your burden to carry, not your responsibility', Lucas knew uttering those words would break his Uncle's heart.

All his years in Oak Lake, Keith had been the father that he never had. Was… _is_ his father. Maybe not by blood or name but by heart and it was all that mattered. And besides, he knew his mother wouldn't last long; it would only take Keith a year or so to convince his mom that getting married wasn't such an awful idea, in fact, it was just perfect.

Of course, when Haley had gotten wind of the situation, she decided to help Lucas out. She got him to study probably as much as she did, which was, a lot. It wasn't all that bad, studying with Haley. They got to spend even more time together and Lucas just loved being around her. She always had a way of making him laugh. Only Haley can actually make studying fun. And despite the fact that by the end of the school year they were practically competing for valedictorian, she helped, urged, and sometimes even threatened him bodily harm to get better grades. It didn't matter who ended up at the top of the class, if he did, it was as if Haley had topped the class as well. In the end Haley took the honor of being valedictorian and no one applauded more loudly than Lucas.

A week before graduation, he also already knew where Nathan was going. It had been huge news, even though everyone who knew high school basketball and followed it closely was already kind of expecting it.

Lucas remembers watching the live press conference. The Raven's coach, Whitey Durham had given a brief introductory speech and then for some strange reason, Dan also had a little speech of his own. Every sentence started with: "My son, Nathan." And as Dan started enumerating the many basketball records that Nathan had broken, the camera had panned towards Nathan, who looked anything but happy. In fact, he looked utterly… _blank_.

There he was, Nathan Scott, chosen son, Tree Hill's hometown hero, a circle of blue surrounding him: fans, cheerleaders and teammates – and there was nothing on his face. It was as though he was just there for the sake of being there.

When Dan finally called Nathan to the podium, the applause wouldn't stop; it went on and on until Nathan finally stood in front of the mic and gruffly cleared his throat. He looked straight into the camera, shoulders angrily thrown back and in a totally emotionless voice, he announced that he had accepted the offer from Duke. He was going to fulfil his lifelong dream of becoming a Blue Devil and still, that cold, expressionless face. Not even his customary arrogant little smirk. Just a hint of a wince as lights started flashing in front of him, forever capturing the moment he held his dreams at the palm of his hands.

And there he was, Lucas Scott, the other son, at his mom's café, watching the very dream he had for himself, unfolding on local TV. He never felt any sort of bitter resentment over Nathan, in time, it had quietly faded away. He didn't have an empty life in Oak Lake. Far from it. He had long figured out that if he was going to hold on to the many 'what ifs', he'd be poisoned by it. He had accepted the life given to him, had learned to make good with it and maybe even to love it and call it as his own – even though the choices made then weren't his, it still worked out for the best. So it took him by surprise, that bright Saturday afternoon when he suddenly wondered, for the first time in years, if they all thought about him then, wondered about him – the other brother.

Yeah, they'd say, what of him?

* * *

"I don't know if it applies to boys," Haley told him one night, mindlessly flipping through a Duke Freshman application form she found by his bed side, "but I've heard freshmen are kissed at midnight by seniors under the first full moon of Autumn Quarter." She glanced up at him, as though waiting for a reaction.

Lucas raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"Well, they call it Full Moon on The Quad." Haley, who had suddenly become an expert on Stanford, told him. She shifted position, sitting cross legged on top of his bed, her hair a magnificent mess. "And I don't know, doesn't it sound so romantic? And poetic? And so… _old_ school?"

He watched silently as Haley made excited little gestures, mindlessly waving the Duke application in the air. "I mean, dude, just think about it! You get to do the whole thing twice. Once as Freshman, you know, the kissee and the next time, as the Senior, the kisser." She paused, to peer up at him, "I just thought it's something that you'd find interesting."

Lucas laughed at that. "Haley, Stanford is too far. From home, from mom. From everything I know. That I love. It'll be… like being the new kid all over again. How many of our friends do you know are planning to go to Stanford?"

"Well," She started indignantly, "no one. At least not yet, they aren't planning to. I mean who knows, maybe in the end, we'll all go to Stanford!"

Leaning forward from his chair, Lucas squinted at Haley. "You of all people should know that I don't do the whole New Kid scene so well."

"But Luke," She gave him a pleading look, pouted and sigh. " _I'll_ be in Stanford. And you'll be far from me and we both know that you're totally screwed without me!"

Well, she did have a valid point there. But Stanford! It wasn't even on his list. Every school he had chosen was within the Carolinas. If pushed came to shove, he'll consider universities in Georgia, maybe. But not California. When he didn't answer, Haley made a sound of utter frustration, growling and eyeing him with narrowed eyes.

"Oh Lucas," She told him, shaking her head, before flopping down unto his bed, "You are so on a losing battle. We both know that you can never, ever, say no to me."

Lucas frowned at her. "I can so say no."

"Oh, really?" Haley lets out a snort, sitting up and raising her eyebrows at him. "We'll see about that, won't we?"

He didn't say anything when she chucked the Duke Application form towards the trash bin at the corner of the room. It went sailing past him, a flash of white, black and blue, landing face down a few inches off target.

And that was it for Duke.

* * *

The last summer before senior year, over hot cocoa and a hundred little white and yellow golf balls, Lucas told Haley that sometimes, he felt as though he was living another life. A life that wasn't meant for him. Sure he's happy in Oak Lake and he's thankful for that. Really, he is. It's just… something was missing. Something in him was missing. He couldn't explain it.

It's like never knowing where or what home really is and he confessed that it was the saddest thing he could think of and he was scared that he'd feel it for the rest of his life. Family and friends, they're supposed to anchor you to that place where you'll feel the safest but sometimes, if he stood in the middle of the high school gym, all alone with nothing but the silence, he wasn't so sure where he felt the safest. Not in this gym. He'd do the same thing in his own room, at the café, at the park where he and Haley would often hang out and still, there were times that these places, so familiar… it felt so alien to him. He felt so alienated from everything. A scary sense of detachment would find its way inside of him and he couldn't figure out what was missing or maybe it was something that he had lost, somehow.

And the worst part is the fear. The ever gnawing fear that he'll always be searching. That there would always be that nagging feeling at the back of his head that he had lost something and he just couldn't remember what it was.

Haley hadn't said anything, just looked at him, long and hard, before sighing softly and moving to cuddle closer, her arms wrapping around his shoulder, dropping a gentle kiss on top of his head. They never really needed words; they understood each other perfectly, especially like this, in silence, just the two of them. The kiss had been a promise of sorts, a vow that she'll never let him be so lost, so alone.

And Haley never did give up on him. She left him anything and everything Stanford: brochures, mugs, jerseys, sweatshirts, although she was quite sorry Stanford didn't have anything in blue, since blue is her favorite color - something that drove him and Damien absolutely nuts.

They always have to remind her to wear green on their games. Most of the time, she'd forget but sometimes, Lucas had a sneaking suspicion that Haley does it on purpose just to make a point. And that is, simply, blue is her favorite color.

"You said that I look good in blue!"

"I know I did, but you look better in green." Damien would argue with her all time. "Plus, Haley, where's your school spirit?"

And Haley's response always varied, although there was always one particular conversation that Lucas liked to relieve from time to time.

Junior year. It had been a few months since Haley and Damien had begun dating and they'd go together on all the games, all three of them in Damien's black truck and he'd always sit at the back, trying to be silent and supportive of this whole 'Daley' thing. Some idiot cheerleader in school had named the " _it_ " couple and personally, he was okay with just Damien and Haley, the whole 'Daley' bit was just creepy. It has, of course, caught on and now even he can't stop himself from using it. Ugh. He can't believe the utter dumbness of it. _Daley_.

"Haley, there's still time, we can still turn around, go back to your place. We'll wait for you to change. You can wear that green dress I bought for you."

"We're already late, West." Lucas informed them from the backseat. "And Haley can wear whatever she wants to wear." Although, to be honest, had Damien not been with them, Lucas would have probably tried to convince Haley to wear something a little bit more, well, green, too.

"I'm cheering aren't I?" Haley added, crossing her arms against her chest, her lips pursed in a pout. Tonight she was wearing a white and blue ensemble and even inside the car, with just the three of them, she looked severely out of place.

"Yes, in _blue_." Always driven into exasperation, Damien would sound as though he was half begging, half roaring - pretty impressive, too, Lucas had to admit - and this always manage to send him in a good mood.

"It's her favorite color." Lucas intoned, grinning widely.

"It's been established, thanks Luke." Damien snapped at him, giving him an evil glare.

"I don't know what the fuss is all about." Haley said, giving both Damien and Lucas a look that clearly conveyed: peace, love, harmony and if either one of them opened their mouths again she was so going to kick both of their ass.

He and Damien were familiar with that look. Of course, Damien always had a penchant for ignoring explicit warning signs. "It's a good thing tonight's game is against Bear Creek." He grumbled out after a few minutes. "At least everyone would be in red and no one would think you're cheering for Bear Creek, which is by the way, the lousiest team ever, next to those shithead Ravens."

"Don't say shithead." Haley reprimanded Damien. "Besides, I can't be the only one wearing blue and white. That's like, statistically impossible. A gym-full of people. "

"Oh, trust me," Damien muttered, rolling his eyes, "you'd be the _only_ one."

They watched as Haley bounced happily on her seat, eyes shining brightly. "Great! I'll stand out!" And Haley didn't mean it in a sarcastic way.

The memory captured Haley perfectly. It was everything that Lucas loved about her. Carefree. Never ever hung up on what other people expected her to look like, sound like or act like. She always did things her own way and always with great care, choosing what was right and what feels right. She'd always had strong opinions about certain things and she'd never hold back, if she believed in something, if she loved something, she'd give it her all.

And if there was one thing that Haley James felt passionate about, it was college. And Stanford.

* * *

People always talked about it, how it changed their life. College. And Lucas had often thought that four years of being virtually away from your family and friends would do that. It's a guarantee. Which was why wasn't so hot with the idea of being so far from Oak Lake.

The pangs of disconnection he'd sometimes feel scared him. What more if he'd ventured out so far from home? Besides, he didn't want to change so radically. Sure, there were things he didn't like about himself. Like maybe, how he'd still sometimes, briefly, in passing, wonder about Tree Hill but all in all, he was certain that he was a decent enough guy. Maybe not destined for greatness but he could live with that.

"And who told you that you aren't predestined to be world famous and well-loved? Although not in the 'throngs-of-girls-screaming-your-name-throwing-their-bras-at-you kind of well-loved."

Lucas would sometimes wonder where Haley ever gets these silly ideas. Like bra throwing. He rolled his eyes at her. "No one, I'm just saying… I just, you know, people have such high expectations of college life. Growing up, knowing yourself, your life's purpose. I mean, not everyone have the same experience in college. Just look at Taylor."

Haley made a face, frowning in confusion. "Well- Taylor's Taylor. I mean, she's…well, she's _Taylor_."

"Exactly. Besides, haven't we done much of the growing up now? I'd say we kinda grew up too soon, too fast during these four years."

"Yes. No. I don't know. That's the whole point. There are still a lot of things that I don't know. High school isn't the whole word. College isn't the whole world, but it's close to it. So, yeah, I guess I still need to do some growing up. I guess I still don't know who I really am and who I really love."

"What if I don't like who I become or for that matter, who I end up loving?"

"Lucas, I hate to do this to you, but this is kind of a ridiculous conversation, which you started and which I should not have encouraged." She glared at him for emphasis. "Look, who has all the answers to these questions, right? No one started out knowing the answers without…I don't know, taking a leap of faith. You gotta learn to just close your eyes and jump off a cliff."

"I'm pretty sure that will be death of me."

"I'm serious! Look, whatever happens, whatever you discover about yourself, whoever you fall in love with, I will always be your best friend and I may not always understand the why's of you, but I'd still love you. No matter what. And so would your mom and Keith and isn't that what's important?"

Lucas was silent for a few minutes, soaking in Haley's words. Well, when she said it like that, it didn't seem too scary anymore. He nudged her shoulder, "Hey buddy, are you as scared as I am about this whole college thing?"

"Shitless."

It wasn't often that Haley would curse, although she did have a potty mouth and she could probably out-curse him if she wanted to. Having three older brother would that. Which was how Lucas knew just how scared Haley was and all these time, she was being tough for him – well, it was time for him to be stronger. It wasn't just his mom's and his heart that he was trying to protect now, it was Haley's too. "Well, I can promise you the same thing. Whatever happens, whatever you discover about yourself, whoever you fall in love with, I will always be your best friend. Nothing is going to change that."

Haley took a deep breath before smiling up at him. "Well, now, I guess I'm not that scared anymore."

* * *

On the night of their senior prom, Haley came up to him, wrapped her arms around him and laid her head near his heart. The band was playing an old, sad song that Lucas didn't recognize. The lyrics were about not saying good bye and he figured Haley had chosen this very song for their last high school dance.

"Stanford feels right, Luke and it would feel really, really lonely without you in it."

That one sentence alone was enough to convince Lucas to go to Stanford with Haley.

"Also," Haley tells him, standing on her toes to whisper in his ears. "Damien thinks he can maybe count on you to make sure I don't end up dating and falling in love with some poor, ruggedly-handsome street musician."

Lucas chuckled, hugging her tighter. "Damien can bet his ass, the first thing I'm gonna do in Stanford is look for a proper boyfriend for you." He took a step back, playfully scowling at Haley. "You need to seriously get rid of West, Hales. You can do so much better."

"But I want him." And the way she told it left no space for any argument whatsoever. It wasn't like they've never had this conversation before but Lucas liked to bring it up once in a while. Catch Haley off guard. Make her finally realize. But Haley must see something in Damien worth emotionally investing in on. He still couldn't see, couldn't accept it as love. Lucas knows, at least he thinks he knows, love when he sees it and he doesn't see it in Haley's eyes.

"Damn, the guy is lucky." Lucas told her, shaking his head, peering down at Haley. "I still can't figure out what he did to deserve you, but if he makes you happy Hales, then I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that he's probably doing something right. And if he hurts you, we'll, you've heard this speech one too many times, I think."

Haley twists her lips up in a smirk. "Is this the one involving slow death?"

"The one and only."

"Well, then, buddy, I've heard it all throughout junior and senior year and Damien hasn't done anything to hurt me. So, let's keep you and him away from sharp objects, okay."

"Who says I need sharp object to waste West?"

"'Waste' West." Haley giggled a little. "You do realize how silly that sounds?" She wagged a finger in front of his face, "Don't let Damien hear you talk like that. He's still half convinced that we're having some sort of mad-passionate, clandestine affair behind his back."

Lucas makes a face. "Ugh, that is just gross. What is wrong with your boyfriend?"

She ignored the question, waving her hands dismissively in the air. "So, what do you say secret lover," Haley began, mischievously purring the last syllable, "let's go to Stanford?"

Lucas opened his mouth, but she stopped him, bringing a finger up, her face suddenly turning serious. "And if you say 'No' I won't ask again. I'll understand. And I'll support you wherever you want to go. I'll even wear your colors." She paused, tilting her head, "Oooh, are you still thinking of Duke? 'Cause I love their shade of blue. And even I have to admit, the little blue devil is kind of cute too."

Lucas swallowed hard, taking a deep breath and closing his hand around Haley's, squeezing it gently. This is why he loves her so much. She knows exactly what to say to him and she never makes it into something huge or dramatic. Leaning forward until their foreheads were touching, he slowly nodded his head. "Okay. Okay, Haley James, let's go to Stanford."

Haley looked at him blankly for a few seconds, as though unsure of what she had heard and when it finally sink in, she suddenly squealed out loud, throwing her arms around him, jumping up and down. "Oh, that is so awesome! I promise, Lucas Scott, we are going to have so much fun in there!"

"I'm sure we would." He carefully placed her back down, "Just, don't ever, ever call me lover, Haley. Never."

"Please, Lucas, you are such a girl." Haley rolled her eyes before beaming up at him and giving him another bear hug. "Told you, you just can't say no to little old me."

"Don't let it get into your head."

* * *

_Freshman Year_

Stanford wasn't so bad. In fact, if anyone asked Lucas, he'd tell them in a heartbeat that it was the best decision he had ever made.

Haley took up music and was regretfully busy most of the week but they made sure that every weekend, they'd spend a whole day in San Francisco, just the two of them, walking around and doing their usual goofy stuff. She tutored elementary school children, the simple Math, Science and English exercises helped her relax. And only Haley James would de-stress out by tutoring kids. She was happy and to Lucas that was all that he needed to know. Of course, there was that weekly, one hour crying over the phone as she talked to Damien who was in Arizona, getting ready for the basketball season.

Haley was always careful not to give him too much detail, especially about Damien and basketball. Sometimes, he'd miss it. Basketball. But he didn't miss it as much as he thought he would. He had promised his mom and Haley and Keith and himself that he wasn't going to trade his life to play a sport. Even if it was a sport that he loved with all of his life. Keith had told him that it was a game. It wasn't _just_ a game, but still, it wasn't life. So he had to let that go. It was tough and sometimes he missed it so terribly, so painfully. But he had learned to accept it and had, in time, found something that he could love, if not as much as basketball, then somewhere closer to it.

He took up, surprise, surprise, Comparative Literature. When he told Haley this, she beamed at him for a whole second, a huge knowing smile on her lips and then as though remembering something, she totally changed her facial expression to one of surprise, jumping off the couch and hurtling herself against him, giving him a great big hug, her girlish giggle filling up her dorm room.

"And of course you already knew this." He told her, realizing right there and then that it was kind of wonderfully sunny here. Well, maybe it was just being with Haley that did it.

"That you'd be a brooding author of sad, sad novels? Hell yeah." Haley said, laughing at his pained expression. "You've always had a way with words, I mean, I remember that short story you submitted junior year, about a boy and his comet."

Lucas rolled his eyes at that. "It was just a story. What I am actually more interested in, is the debates about the place of the verbal arts and the methods of their study in past times and our own."

"Please. I know you never really want me to find out, which sucks, since I'm your best friend, but I've seen you typing away every night for the last year and a half. I mean, what could you have been possibly doing? It couldn't have been porn chat, no one types up three paragraphs for that. So I figured it out."

"Ah, Nancy Drew has done it once again." Lucas said, ignoring the 'porn' comment.

"So tell me, am I, your one and only best friend, included on that future-bestselling novel of yours?"

"Hales, I haven't even started. All the other stuff, they're just… stories. Not exactly something I'd let anyone read."

"Including me?"

"Well, maybe someday."

"You suck." Haley said, stepping away from the hug, crossing her arms against her chest, looking hurt.

Lucas raised his eyebrows. "But I brought you like, a gallon of cookie dough!"

Haley immediately brightened up. "Okay, I take it back. You rock my world!"

* * *

_Sophomore Year_

It did take them a while to get used to the whole dorm community. Actually, it took him a bit longer than Haley, but when he finally settled in, finally felt as though the campus and the library (of course) were part of his home, everything just sort of came into place. Like a jigsaw puzzle solving itself.

He had spent a total of two years in Stanford and he missed Oak Lake the same fierce way he had on his first night at his dorm room, but he had discovered so much about himself in that two years that he felt as though for the first time in all his life, he wasn't being anchored by, weighed down by anything from his past. From the choices that Dan had made, that his mom had made. He felt free from all of that and he felt in control of his life.

He could be anyone, could totally re-invent himself but that wasn't what he sought out to do. What he wanted was to re-discover himself. Be Lucas Scott. Not son of a single mom, basketball, hometown hero, all around good-guy, but just Lucas Scott, college student. It's just like, when he was a kid and he'd write a letter and put his age next to his name. Wasn't it so much simpler back then?

_Lucas Scott, 20._

Haley had understood it even before he did, that he needed this. To be away from home to know where home really is. Home was wherever you'd find your strength, where you'd feel safe, where you'd find love, the reason to live. Home wasn't just one place. It wasn't even really a place.

It's inside of him. His own heart.

Lucas is pretty sure it's the same from everyone, no matter what you believed in or what you're doing; although, it was kind of sad to think that not many people would even realize it. He was lucky he had his mom and Keith who'd always encourage him to follow his heart. And Haley too, who literally had to kick his ass for him to finally figure it all out. Of course, figuring it all out is a world of difference from applying it to his everyday life. But that's what Haley is for.

"Luke, I'm not like the magnetic _North_ in your compass." Haley told him when he treated her out for dinner the night their Sophomore year ended. Tomorrow he'd be going back to Oak Lake and Haley was going to spend a few months with Damien in Arizona. The dinner was his way of thanking her for always being there for him and guiding him through it all. "I didn't do anything. It was all you. I mean, if you'd just listen to what your heart says, you wouldn't be in so much trouble. You do have a bad habit of ignoring what your heart is telling you."

"I do not." He answered back, hoping to sound as convincing as the voice in his head.

Haley's knowing eyebrow-arch was enough of a confirmation that she didn't quite believe him and she was probably right about that too. But really, when you're this young, could you really trust your painfully inexperienced heart? What truths will it know? Maybe he was a skeptic but he honestly believed that the whole 'heart over mind' thing, it's a little too naïve. Of course, naiveté would suit Haley but in the end, it wouldn't protect her from getting hurt. This was why he was her bestfriend, to make sure that she never gets hurt. Speaking of trying to protect her, narrowing his eyes, he stabs the air with his fork. "So, how long are you staying with West?"

"Two weeks and then we go home to Oak Lake together, but oh, let's not change the subject. We, buddy, are talking about your heart."

"Haley!" Lucas was aware of how whiny that sounded. "I do my best, but I have a damaged heart, so you'd forgive me if I don't always trust it."

"I think your heart is just perfect, you're just too thick-headed to realize it. Besides," she added her voice turning slightly teasing, "I think it's time to end this year long celibacy you've imposed upon yourself. A little romance is exactly what your heart needs."

Lucas actually choked the moment the word 'celibacy' went flying out of Haley's mouth. Coughing and waving away the glass of water Haley was offering him, he finally sputtered out, "What are you talking about?"

Taking a long, slow sip from her glass, Haley suggestively waggled her eyebrows at him, "Lucas Scott, I think you know exactly what, or rather who, I'm talking about." She added a sultry wink.

"No I don't. And for the record, you're really starting to scare me, Haley."

"Shall I just blurt out her name?" Haley asked, her smirk growing larger by the minute. "'Cause I know her name. Do you?"

"Who's name?"

"Ow, c'mmon Luke, you really wanna play this game? You know that I know when there's a girl that you like."

"You're wrong. There is no girl."

Of course, Haley, being Haley, was absolutely right.

Lucas saw her first during the annual trip to Lake Tahoe in the Winter. And he knows her name too: Brooke Davis.

He remembers seeing her for the first time, surrounded by snow. Everything is white, clean, and crisp and there she stood in the middle, bundled up in gray and pink and in the midst of all that flawless, never-ending white… she was even more perfect than the snow. She looked so alive, and real, her skin flushed, rosy colored, her eyes dark. Darker than any shade Lucas had ever seen. She had a cup of warm coffee – the spicy scent of caffeine filling up the air. She had looked up at him, smiled and said: 'Hey'

And, well, that was it for Lucas.

"It's just a harmless crush." He'd told Haley, ignoring the warm, burning feeling spreading all over his face. He couldn't remember ever blushing just because of a girl. He had dated in high school. Nothing serious. Except for Anna, although even that didn't last as long as he would've liked and he secretly felt somewhat relieved that it didn't. He didn't understand then, why he felt that way for someone he had been dating for almost a year and he didn't understand now, why a complete stranger would hold his interest for such a long time.

"Harmless. _Hah_. Lucas, you like her."

"I do not!"

He did. Like her. Like, really, really _like_ her. He'd always had a thing with brunettes. And girls with dimples. She always looked so put together. Never a hair out of place. He'd never seen her wear an outfit twice and yes, he had watched her for that long to actually start making a graph on how often she'd wear skirts versus tight fitting jeans.

Over the course of their dinner, after about three glasses of wine, Lucas finally, grudgingly admitted his current state of pathetic-ness, which Haley argued, isn't even a word to begin with.

Anyway, Brooke Davis was quite popular. Actually, is popular, period. She was a cheerleader and was therefore, as required by some sort of universal law, always surrounded by jocks. She was always at her Sorority House, hosting parties. And suddenly, it was like Lucas was back in high school. Or more like he was back to being a love sick, teen aged high school boy.

He'd watch her from a far, trying to figure out exactly why the mere sight of her would tug at his heart. Well, tug was putting it quite mildly. Every time he'd see her, it felt like he was on the verge of having an honest to goodness, life threatening heart attack. His heart would race so fast, he'd have a hard time catching his breath.

But Lucas didn't know her. He didn't even have an idea of who she is, what she's like. He didn't know what movies she liked, or the kind of music she listened to. If she had any siblings, or if her parents we're living with her. If she's even from here. If she's like him, someone from a small town, North Carolina.

And yet, even with all the things that he didn't know about her, there was still something familiar with her. Achingly so. But he couldn't place his vague, fuzzy memory of hers. Or maybe, Lucas thinks, he's just making it all up, so that somehow he can be connected to her. They've never talked. Never shared anything, except maybe the air they were both breathing and even that piddling, little thing made him somewhat happy.

He'd always planned on saying 'Hi' to her whenever he'd pass her by the hallways or at the student center. Even after games. But he'd always choke on that one little word. Just two letters actually and yet, it was so hard to open his mouth whenever she's within hearing shot. Lucas was deathly afraid that he'd say something stupid and she'd laugh that amazingly, sexy, loud laugh of hers.

The things that Lucas came to know, it was from all the time he spent discreetly stalking her, aside from her laughing loudly, freely, she's the same age as he was (Haley's younger than him by a year - she was too smart, she had to skip one grade). She's taking up a business course. She was active with cheerleading. With anything and everything related to sports. Basketball to be exact. She looked absolutely hot as hell when she's wearing red. And she has the sexiest, smoky voice he had ever heard in all of his life. Whenever he'd hear her say something, he'd feel a tingle all the way up to his spine and into his brain, sending jolts of electricity to his heart.

He did this the whole of sophomore year, always watching her from a far. He'd think about her often enough to get distracted in class. Actually, he was perpetually distracted, classes or no classes.

He nursed and nurtured this 'harmless crush' for a whole year – like a gardener tending to his roses – he showered Brooke Davis with everything he got, his attention, his hopes, his dreams and before he knew it, his feelings had blossomed in a full blown, romantic, painful, unrequited love. All red and clustered with thorns. And it was perfect.

* * *

_Junior Year_

He spent the whole summer looking forward to seeing her and dreading the months of silently, patiently watching her. He had promised himself that since they were starting Junior year, he'd concentrate on his studies and on trying to break up Damien and Haley. Anything actually, just as long as Brooke Davis wouldn't consume his every waking and sleeping hour and all hours in between that.

Which was easier said than done.

"Lucas, oh my God, seriously, when are you going to stop stalking her?" Haley would complain often enough, especially when she'd realize that they're watching a particular movie exactly because Brooke was having a date with her current boy toy, three rows in front of them. Or when she'd notice that two tables away from the restaurant Lucas had chosen for dinner was Brooke and another one of her many boyfriends. Even the library wasn't a safe place anymore.

"It's just creepy how well you know her schedule." She told Lucas in a strained whisper as they tried to study inside the library, the eight million books, all ignored by Lucas as he kept his eyes on Brooke Davis, who was intently drawing her latest fashion design with colored pens. And yes, he might have spent shameful, ungodly hours of time browsing through her Clothes over Bro's website, looking over dresses and shirts and ordering things for Haley, much to Damien's chargin.

_"Haley, what kind of best friend would buy you nighties if you're not having sex!"_

Unfortunately, the baseless, utterly ridiculous accusation and argument was not enough to break them up - damn! Anyway, the only reason he'd buy stuff was completely innocent enough. Well, okay, he might have been hoping that maybe, at least just once, Brooke herself would deliver his orders. And oh God, he was also painfully aware of how incredibly lame that was. Still, he had been completely in awe with how incredibly talented and perfect she was. Brooke Davis seems to be capable of doing everything and anything.

"Except getting a steady, serious boyfriend, it seems." Haley quipped, going over her music sheets.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," She looked up at him, wincing a little. "Out of line. I know. I just thought maybe that should inspire you to go over there and I don't know, blurt some speech that you're the guy for her." She picked her pen up, brandishing it like a sword, "You're good at speeches. Well, you're good at writing speeches." She paused, thoughtfully biting her lips. "Oh and yeah, stalking."

"I'm not really stalking her. I mean, not like that."

"Well, like what Lucas? Like not totally crazy and alarming. I mean, seriously, let's not wait for her to call the campus security on you." Haley let out a sigh, shaking her head. "Why couldn't you have done this freshman year? At least back then, it wouldn't look so silly. I mean, dude, just to talk her!"

Lucas had been gripping his book, his knuckles turning white. He glared at Haley. "I can't! And don't call me 'dude'."

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm your best friend and I'm not just some ' _dude'_.

Haley stared at him, long and hard. "Lucas, I meant why won't you talk to her?"

Lucas slumped lower in his seat, feeling strangely defeated. "Butterflies." He finally muttered.

"What?" Haley asked, exasperated.

"I get butterflies in my stomach, okay. Like a million of them. Crawling, wings fluttering. It's distracting and it makes me think of stupid things. And when I start thinking of stupid things, I can't help but say stupid things. I can't come up to her and say stupid things, cause I'm going to look really, really stupid."

Haley rolled her eyes, smiling sweetly-sadly at him. She never teased him about being a stalker and she hadn't forced him to go talk to Brooke, but sometimes, he'd catch her scrunching up her face, as though thinking up ways on how she can make him approach Brooke and he'd always curb her cunning plan by telling her, "Don't even think about it."

* * *

_Senior Year_

"Lucas this has gone on for far too long!" Haley told him as they huddled together at a corner, the party pulsating around them. Stanford had just beaten the crap out of Duke but Lucas wasn't especially in the mood to celebrate. Basketball and Duke and after parties. Not exactly the greatest recipe for fun. At least to him it wasn't. He had tried to avoid running into Nathan, but of course, it couldn't be helped.

Since he couldn't be playing, their high school coach, out of love and respect for him, for the way he had played during those four years in high school had hooked him up with the coaching staff and somehow, he had ended being part of the team. Just on the sidelines though.

"Isn't this, like added torture, Luke?" Haley had worriedly asked when he had told her of the news.

Of course he had vehemently denied it. If there was a way to still be part of the game that he so loved, he'd take it. He was aware that he'd feel the occasional pang, the longing, but he hadn't thought it'll be that bad. What's a little pain now and then, right?

Seeing Nathan though…not that he wasn't happy for his brother, because he was, even though Nathan wouldn't have anything to do with that happiness and pride he felt for him… well, it didn't matter anyway, Lucas was still happy for his little brother .

But the little ache from tonight's game had blossomed into something really, really, dangerously depressing and he had quickly scampered away from the gym, walking away from the euphoria of the win. When Haley had banged on his door, telling him about the after-game party he had begged off, sheepishly admitting that just wanted to go back to bed and wallow at the current pathetic state of his life.

"Luke, c'mmon, you aren't pathetic." Haley paused to glare at him, sniffling mildly at the tufts of blonde hair standing out from his head, "Well, right now you kind of are, but I promise you, you would not want to miss this one!"

Why Lucas had allowed her to dress him up and drag him to the party he'd never know, but Haley always had a way of turning his life upside down and inside out and he should have known that it had something to do with Brooke Davis.

Of course, even he couldn't not have seen it coming.

Haley James and Brooke Davis didn't belong in the same circle of friends; in fact, they could have been living in different galaxies, as far as the social crowd that they belonged was concerned, but somehow Haley had found out from a friend of a friend of a friend that Brooke and Lucas actually have one thing in common: Tree Hill.

She had approached Brooke, because Lucas just couldn't quite do it himself and she had been wonderfully surprised to find out that Brooke was just a regular girl: funny and sweet and smart, although, prone to occasional fits of vanity. But that was fine, Lucas wouldn't admit it, but he spends a ridiculous amount of time styling his hair.

Haley wasn't exactly trying to play matchmaker, she just wanted to give Lucas the extra push. It wasn't like he never dated. He did and for a while, he even had Haley convinced that this was _the_ girl.

* * *

Lindsey happened at the start of their senior year. She was incredibly smart, beautiful, funny and kind. Lucas often thought that she looked like those models in classical painting: strong features, not like the delicate, gentle girlishness of Haley's face. There was an obvious fierceness in her that intrigued him. It was her eyes that had drawn him in and he could spend hours and hours sitting with her quietly reading a book and every so often, glancing up to admire her face. There was a certain sweetness to it, an openness that made him smile and want to touch her and kiss. It was a total turn on that she knew more about books than him and she could easily school him when it comes to literature. 

He was absolutely enthralled with her. They had so many things in common, it felt so natural when they started going out. There were dates and nights spent together. He wasn't a prude and he was a guy. He has his needs, but it wasn't something that he actively pursued just for the sake of meeting those needs. It had to mean something. Lucas had never understood the point of random hookups. It all seemed sad and awkward and pointless.

He and Lindsey lasted for months, longer than he had thought possible and for a brief period it was almost like he had entirely forgotten about Brooke Davis. 

That is until he realized he hadn't and that his relationship with Lindsey had become more and more about companionship and friendship. He liked her, he was attracted to her but he knew that he did not feel the same way as she did. They did not drift apart. He couldn't let that happen. He had to man up and tell her that it wasn't her fault, she was perfect. His mother would have loved her. She and Haley got along well enough but his heart was not just into it. He knew this was going to hurt but he'd rather be honest than let things drag on and in the process ruin the friendship that they had built. He did not want them to end resenting each other. Bitter and distant. 

Lindsey _was_ hurt and Lucas felt bad but she understood where he was coming from. She appreciated his honesty and had teased him that it would be difficult to find a guy as mature as he was. Lucas did not think it was maturity - not when he was still hiding from his real feelings.

They had both decided that a clean break was better. Maybe someday, they could become friends again, just not now. It's still a little fresh. 

"You're a good guy Luke, but _fresh_ is like, three months tops. It's been six months. And it isn't like you're sad about the break up - I mean, of course you are, but I know you're sadder that you lost your library buddy, your literary critic. And I get that. I miss her too. She was a great friend and you'd get her back, as a friend," Haley quickly added, knowing that Lucas would be quick to protest. "But you need to go back out there and just - _live_. Also, honestly, I am getting tired of hearing your endless laments that would usually revolve around Goethe. I mean, Luke, _seriously?!_ " 

"You know, the theme of unrequited love was probably first explored by Goethe, in 1774."

"That long ago, huh?" Haley answered, trying not to sound too disinterested. She had heard this story before; over dinner, over bottles of beer, lying in bed, watching the sky. Goethe has become some sort of obsessions. Haley knows exactly why and more importantly, where this will all eventually lead.

"The book was titled _The Sorrows of Young Werther_."

"Are you sure it's not **_Scott_**?"

Lucas just stared at her. "The book ended with Werther shooting himself when couldn't have the woman he loved."

Haley closed her book, giving Lucas her whole attention. "You're not going to shoot yourself, Lucas."

"Of course not! I mean, I'd be stupid to do that. I just… I thought, I would kind of know how Werther must have felt like, you know. It must be real awful to love someone and not be loved back in return."

"I agree. But that's not the interesting fact about the novel. You're forgetting the after the release of said book, the suicide rate rose and the book had to be banned."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "People are silly; no one would kill themselves just because they read it from a book."

"So, you've read the book?"

Lucas glanced at her. "Well, no. Not yet."

"If I see you reading that book, I'm going to get you banned from the library."

"You would not do that!"

"Oh, don't tempt me, Scott."

And as light as the conversation had been, Haley remembered how incredibly forlorn Lucas had sounded. He won't actually make any attempts at ending his own life, she was pretty sure Lucas wouldn't do something as drastic as _that,_ it's just that, well Lucas had a penchant for being a martyr, suffering silently and all that bleeding heart stuff. She wasn't going to let that happen.

Haley had been trying to figure out a way on how she could tell him that she actually kind of know Brooke Davis and she can maybe help him change the course of his possibly ill-fated, tragic love story - oh, the woes of unrequited love - she didn't actually have a plan, not even a time line as she wanted it to be as spontaneous as possible. And really, she was still sort of waiting and hoping for Lucas to finally gather up enough courage to make a move already, because, even guys like him have limits too! At least that was what she had been counting on. But after the game, when she saw that sad, lost look on Lucas face as he quickly exited the gym, shoulders slumped and head down, the picture of defeat, she knew she had to do something.

It had literally broken her heart to see that side of Lucas again. It was like seeing the little boy Lucas all over again. It wasn't fair. He deserved to get all the happiness in the world. And as his best friend, it was her duty to be brave when Lucas can't be brave for himself. So here they are, in the midst of a mad, raving party, out to conquer the allure of the silent-shadow called love, as Lucas had so poetically termed it one caffeine-laced morning, when it became pretty obvious to both of them that Brooke Davis was his muse.

It had come to this. Of course, Haley would have wanted it to be less... chaotic, more along the candle-lit dinner or a walk across the campus. Lucas thrived on romance and not on the current pandemonium going around them. It's definitely not helping his nerves. Haley can tell, cringing at the way Lucas was sporadically clenching and unclenching his fists. Haley had never thought that trying to calm Lucas down could be such a challenge as furiously he glared at, like she was some sort of vile, wicked enemy. And God help her, she was becoming overly-dramatic as Lucas. It must be contagious.

* * *

"Butterflies. Haley. A gazillion of them. I have a butterfly farm inside my stomach. A freakin' swarm of butterflies!" He helplessly gestured over to the couch occupied by Brooke and her friends.

Tonight, she was wearing a red hot dress, the curve of her waist a silent, eloquent invitation. The deep cleavage enticing, mouth-watering (hey, he still has those raging hormones, too). Her temptingly red lips were moving in a dizzyingly slow, sexy manner. Her laughter, her smoky eyes…they were all designed to make his heart go nuts.

"I can't do this." Lucas announced in a slightly panicked voice, backing out of the room. "I mean look at her, she's like, she's not going to even notice me. She'll be like, ' _huh'_? And it'll be embarrassing Haley. I would never be able to show my face to her." He'd never been a rambler before. That was Haley. He was clearly nervous. Beyond nervous actually. Like near puking.

Biting her lips, Haley firmly placed her palms against Lucas's back, pushing him forward, wincing as he practically stumbled. She had to hold on to him to prevent him from ending up sprawled on the floor. She must not show mercy. In the end, Lucas will thank her for this. "Lucas, just approach her." Haley told him through gritted teeth. "Or, we can approach her together and I can introduce you to her."

"You're kidding me, right?" He asked her, his blue eyes suddenly becoming huge, bright. Dilated. "Haley if you do that, I am never going to forgive you."

Giving up, Haley threw her hands in the air. "Well, fine. If it's going to be the cause of the end of our friendship-" Haley started to stomp away from Lucas who quickly grabbed her arms, muttering unintelligibly.

He gave her a measured look before finally relenting. "Okay. Fine. Just... you say my name and then we split."

"How is she supposed to remember you?"

"She's not. That the point. Just a vague recollection of my face or something."

Haley rolled her eyes before taking Lucas's clammy, sweaty hands. "C'mmon, then, heart of a lion."

The old nickname must have calmed Lucas down. A bit. Since Haley half expected she'd have to drag him kicking and squirming. Instead, when she glanced at him, he looked calm enough. The boyish nervousness only serving to make him look charming.

_Now dear God, please just don't let him say anything about butterflies._

They wordlessly made their way through the crowd, heading straight towards Lucas's red, red rose. In truth, the total time it took them to finally stand just a foot away from Brooke Davis was less than three minutes, but to Lucas it was three lifetimes over and everything was just moving in slow motion, the faces around them dissolving into shadows, the furious, relentless music had somehow died down. He felt as though as he was walking through thick mud and the only thing he could think of was, he really was going to do strangle Haley for this.

He'd never been able to actually recall what Haley told Brooke and how she had gotten Brooke to look at him. She might have said something along the lines of " _And this is my best friend, Lucas Scott_." or maybe even, " _And this is the guy who's been stalking you since Sophomore Year_." All he could remember was watching Brooke slowly turn her head towards him: her wonderfully, inviting red smile, her incredibly dark eyes, all directed at him.

When Lucas finally reached out his hands to shake Brooke's, her first words were, "Lucas. I remember you."

He knew then that he was going to love this girl forever.

"You do?"

She smiled gloriously at him, if not a little shyly and Lucas had practically seen every expression on her face, and this was the first time he caught a glimpse of a little girl smile. Sweet and innocent.

"That winter in Lake Tahoe. You we're standing outside, staring at the snow and I came over and said 'Hey.'" She giggled softly, eyes twinkling merrily, "Of course, you probably don't remember me from then but…"

"I do. I remember. I remember everything from that moment."

And that was how it had come to be: Haley James introducing Lucas Scott to the love of his life, Brooke Davis.


	11. Eleven

**_Eleven_ **

He doesn't know why he's here. Brooke is drunk and miserable and bitter, kind of like his mom, and if there's one thing that he has learned, it's that you never, ever listen to a drunk, bitter, broken-hearted miserable woman. Especially ones who's sharing secrets with the dead. Nathan thinks there might be something darkly romantic about it, maybe even poetic – who knows? He isn't the type of guy who'd know these sorts of things. He can give you the list of all the NBA champions, in chronological order, from the year he was born until the present; Michael Jordan's career high points; his average during his heyday on the court; Coach K's total number of wins and losses. He can spew off basketball statistics, the science behind triangle offense, anything about the game - he knows his stuff. But if you ask him about love, well, he wouldn't know jack about it.

Nathan immediately thinks of Haley and wonders why he's so keen on seeing her again. He isn't planning on sleeping with her that was for certain. Well, maybe he had thought about it, like, very, very briefly. In passing. Totally lightning quick. The idea quickly fizzled out as soon as he remembered that this is the girl his brother had held high up on a pedestal and what makes him think he can actually reach her? From where he's standing, he'd be lucky if she'd even notice him.

No. This is just some sort of way to compensate the gnawing guilt that's furiously eating him up from the inside.

Yeah. This is what this whole thing is all about.

He's been an ass to Lucas and now that Lucas is gone, he has to take care of Haley. Even for just tonight. And besides, who else would? He hadn't seen anyone trying to comfort her at Lucas's house. He had experienced this all before: death. It doesn't make him an expert, but it does make him somewhat qualified do this, right? He can comfort her, be the receiving end of her anger, he can sit still and be silent and let her cry all she wants. Whatever she needs right now, he'll be the guy for her and it'll be like a little favor to his half-brother.

There, let's call it that. An apology of sorts.

It takes him an hour to find her. She's exactly where Brooke said she'll be. He parks the car a few feet away, watching her. He sits there, silently gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles had turned white, until the palm of his hand started to ache. It strikes him again, how small she is. How small she looks out there, standing all by herself at the middle of the basketball court. He watches as she throws the ball up, how it curves and falls way, way out of target.

Haley clearly has never held a basketball before. Ever.

She tries over and over again. The dribbling sound the ball makes is erratic, without rhythm, without purpose. She steps closer, squares her shoulder and carelessly tosses the ball. It doesn't go in. She steps farther, angles it up on the right, at the corner, near the free throw line and misses once again.

She doesn't stop though. She runs after the ball, picks it up again: dribbles, aims, shoots and misses.

The image of Haley, alone in an empty court, the sun slowly fading behind her, it burns him. It touches Nathan so profoundly that everything he knows, every memory he has ever had, they all suddenly lost their meaning, their significance. It all went away, dissolving into nothing until all he could grasp, all he could understand was the small woman shooting baskets, trying to chase the hurt away.

He's out of the car and into the street, wondering how to make his presence know; if he's even welcome here. He's only talked to Haley for less than hour, so really, what gives him the right to think that he could honestly help her through the pain?

Nathan swallows hard. He has talked himself into this and now that he's actually close enough to hear her gasping for breath her as she runs towards the ball bouncing away from her, well, he isn't going to listen to that cowardly voice urging him to go back, just walk away and forget about it. If he does that, this will haunt him for the rest of his life and he already has too many things haunting him. He's done enough walking away so he straightens his back, walks closer towards her.

And who was he kidding anyway? Coward as he maybe, he's also stubborn and relentless. Nathan can't walk away now. Not after seeing her like this. Not when there's no one else around to look after her.

Nathan hears Haley grunt as she takes another shot and this time, the ball finally makes it to the backboard. The sound is loud and jarring as the rim visibly shakes from the force of the ball angrily bouncing against it. Haley's shoulder is tense, set rigidly and Nathan is sure that from the way she had flung the ball, elbows awkwardly tucked against her side, she's feeling the sting of her muscles protesting at the sudden effort. If she does it again, it'll hurt more: her shoulders, her arms and back. Nathan winces at the thought, suddenly aware of how sore she'd be tonight. Who knows how long she's been trying to make a basket? Hours? From her tired stance, the slump of her shoulder, the defeated curve of her back, as though burdened, Nathan is sure she's been at it since he had left her hours ago.

"Square your shoulders to the basket. Bend your knees a little and relax your hips a bit."

Haley lets out a sudden, startled sound, dropping the ball and whirling around to face him. The ball rolls away from her limp hands, but Nathan isn't sure where it went, his eyes are on her and she's crying; silent tears streaming down her face, small wet splotches on her yellow dress. Her face is the picture of agony, pure and solitary. She's grieving all by herself and he just waltzes in with his basketball words of wisdom.

_Square your shoulders to the basket. Bend your knees a little and relax your hips a bit._

Shit. What is he thinking? What good would that advise be? He's such a fucking moron. So stupid and useless. Nathan stands there quietly, unsure of what to say, what to do. He wishes he had listened to Brooke, to Tim and Jake. To Keith. To his dad. If only he had, he wouldn't be standing here, wanting desperately to just disappear. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry…" He chokes on this, barely makes a sound, his throat constricting painfully, strangling him.

Haley quickly wipes her eyes, her face and chin. It's red and blotchy and dammit, how is it possible that she's still the prettiest girl Nathan had ever seen? The sun's fading light casts shadows around her face and even the sorrowful curve of her lips is sweet and intoxicating to look at, he almost forgets that he had practically violated something sacred; had arrogantly stepped into her grief with nothing to offer her, nothing except how to shoot a basket.

She's still looking up at him, still breathing through her mouth, her lips parted gently.

"I am so sorry." Nathan chokes out one more time, talking through his burning throat. "I didn't mean to… I didn't know… I… Haley..." He falters at her name and he takes the smallest step towards her, suddenly wanting, needing to pull her into his arms. He watches as she swallows, her throat muscle working so visibly underneath her pale skin. She takes in a deep breath, her chest heaving and he could practically see her heart quivering inside.

"Please don't cry." It's a silly little thing to say, because her best friend had just died, what else is she supposed to do? But Nathan just can't stand the sight of her crying. The sight of her tears, that sad, broken, lost look, something inside of him twists and coils painfully, protesting at the thought of her hurting. He must do something. He can't watch her be like this.

Haley shakes her head, sniffing gently. "I suck don't I?" She asks after a beat, smiling crookedly through her tears.

Nathan blinks, not sure if he heard her right. She's still looking expectantly up at him and he clears his throat to answer. "No, it's…" He lifts his hand, makes a futile gesture, thinks of how stupid that is and quickly drops his hands back to his side, clenching and unclenching his fist.

Haley lets out a small chuckle. "I am not athletic. Obviously." She gives him quick roll of her eyes. "Lucas makes it look so easy." She walks past him and Nathan quickly turns, following her movement, uncertain if he's supposed to run after her if she bolts, but she's just picking the ball, holding it in between her palms. Her delicate fingers spaced so far apart. She holds it the way all girls would hold a basketball, like it was some sort of a Tupperware bowl.

Nathan almost smiles at this. He’d be able to easily hold the basketball with one hand. Effortlessly and expertly gripped with his fingers.

Haley sighs, walking back up to him. "He makes everything so easy. And I can't..." she makes almost the same helpless hand gestures he did, indicating the towering basket. She makes a face, scrunching up her nose, "When you left, I realized, I've never asked Lucas to teach me how to score a touchdown."

"Basket." Nathan automatically answers with a shrug, shoving his hands inside his pockets. He wonders where this is going, because this certainly isn't the reaction he had been expecting. He'd thought maybe by this time, Haley would've asked him to leave her alone but she hasn't. Not yet, anyway and he's trying to figure out when she'd finally get tired of him. Or suspicious. When she'll finally ask him to mind his own damn business.

Haley looks up at Nathan, her watery-brown eyes suddenly confused. "Huh?"

Nathan tries to hide his wince. Confusing basketball with football seemed totally impossible and yet Haley had and it was absolutely cute. Almost adorable. Maybe even kind of sexy, in that innocent way of hers. "You said touchdown. Its uhm, that’s for football and basket is, for, well, basketball."

That sounds dumb, but Haley smiles at him. It's a faint, feeble small smile but Nathan is unexpectedly relieved to find that smile back on her face. She isn't crying anymore. He feels the band across his chest loosening.

"Right. Sorry." Haley says this in a sincerely apologetic way. "Lucas tried to get me interested in basketball but I never really got it." She makes a face, kind of endearing, the way she scrunches up her nose and lips, almost as though she had tasted something nasty. "I mean, I'd watch his games and scream my head off, even though I didn't actually know what's happening, just that he scored a basket."

Her eyes twinkle a little at the word and Nathan actually smiles at that. She's a quick learner. "Well, you're starting to get it, you're not that hopeless." He assures her, trying to keep his tone light. Her tears had dried and there were only faint marks on her cheeks. Little white, faded tracks. Nathan wants so badly to erase even that but he still couldn't bring himself to touch her. He knows, somehow he knows that the moment he touches her, it would change everything. He isn't quite ready for that yet and even if he was, he's sure how Haley would react.

"Teach me." Haley tells him.

Nathan stares down at her. "What?"

"You said you played against him, so teach me." She sounds determined and something tells Nathan that he wouldn't be able to say no but…

"I... don't." _I can't_. The honor is supposed to be Lucas's. Lucas was supposed to teach Haley and not him. It didn't seem right that he'd take this from his half-brother too. He had already taken too much, hadn't he?

"C'mmon, I know I'm a total klutz and I'm probably as uncoordinated as a whale," she pauses, frowning, "wait, are whales uncoordinated?" She makes that face again, before shaking her head. "I have to check that one out," she mutters to herself, as though making a mental note. "Anyway, seriously, I'm as uncoordinated as the most uncoordinated mammal in the animal planet that you can think of but I would really like to try. For Luke." Haley takes a step closer, her hand suddenly finding his, curling around his fingers, tugging him. "For me."

"I don't know." Nathan starts. Lucas wouldn't like this, but it's not like he has any choice. It's not like _they_ have any choice, right? Lucas isn't here anymore and Haley needed this. He's just trying to help her out. He's not trying to steal this from Lucas or anything.

Brooke's word from earlier finds it way inside his head and he wonders rather inanely if Lucas is currently tossing and turning in his grave right now. Nathan sends a quick apology and hopes that somehow, somewhere, Lucas would know that he's not trying anything… he's just… well… Nathan still isn't sure what he's doing. Maybe Lucas could give him a sign? Something to let him know that this okay.

"Please? Please Nathan?" His name escaping her lips really does something weird inside of him. He can feel his stomach muscles fluttering like crazy. It's insane. Actually, this whole thing is pretty much right there in the Insane Weird Shit category of his life.

Nathan has never tried to teach anyone anything ever before. Especially not basketball. His dad had insisted that whatever knowledge he knew about the game, he should use it to his advantage and not give it away to anyone, not even to his teammates. Proof of this was the fact that he's the only one in the team who had perfected the art of throwing a free throw. Sometimes, he'd even do it looking sneeringly at their opponents: _Look, asshat, I can do this with my eyes closed_. He had probably thrown Lucas that same self-assured arrogant look.

"Lucas would always score a basket for me. One every game and I get to do that for him, this one time. Please?" Haley has enveloped his hand inside hers and she feels so incredibly warm, so impossibly close to him he could faintly smell her shampoo.

Nathan closes his eyes and slowly nods his head. When she's looking at him that way, her brown eyes so wide and trusting, there's just no way he can say 'No' to her. It's impossible.

"Okay." He tells her after a second, meeting her gaze, her smile of thanks. "Alright, I'll teach you."

And well, now both his dad and Lucas would be rolling his eyes at him. It didn't matter. Haley wanted to do this and he'd help her. He'd stay here at Oak Lake forever until she can finally make a basket.

* * *

She makes the first basket right around the time the first stars had started appearing. Granny style. Desperate time calls for desperate measures and Nathan had a feeling she won't go home until she makes one. So he promises he'll come back and teach her later how to do it properly.

Nathan remembers it vividly: the very second the ball silently swished in - nothing but net.

It took them a moment to register that she had actually done it and before Nathan can congratulate her, Haley let out a small squeal of surprise that quickly turned into delight. She had ran to him, wrapped her arms around him and again, Nathan was bowled over by her smallness. So delicately fierce. So fragile.

He was still holding her when right there and then, he realized that he wanted her. Nathan wants her in his life and he knows, he's sure of it, that she's all that he'll ever want and nothing else would matter.

This sudden realization makes him nervous. No, not nervous, fuck _nervous_. It goes beyond that. He's terrified. Scared shitless. Because he's certain that he's not allowed to want her. He can't. And maybe that's his punishment. Maybe after everything that he has ever done, all the shitty things that he had put people through – this was his karma. That he'd want a girl so badly but she'll never want him back. Not when she finally finds out who he really is.

Tim's right, karma is a bitch.

"Thank you." Haley is standing beside him, her face bright with the effort exerted, no longer tear-stained. She looks even lovelier up close. "Thank you, Nathan." Her voice is gentle and soft and almost musical. It pierces something inside of him and he can feel the blood rushing to his face. He's done something nice for her. No big grand gestures, nothing expensive or anything like that and yet he feels worthy of the look she's giving him.

It takes him a full second to bask in the light with her, before he reluctantly admits to himself that he's deluding himself. Because what's a few hours of trying to teach a girl how to shoot a ball? It's nothing really, in the grand scheme of things, of life. So Nathan quickly chucks the glowing feeling inside his chest and ruefully shakes his head.

"It's okay, I…it was nothing." He mumbles this almost dejectedly, because it is what it is, and it is nothing. If he can't give her the truth, then everything that he has to offer her amounts to nothing but ashes and dirt and Haley doesn't deserve that.

"No, it really meant a lot to me Nathan." She smiles up at him and before he knows what's happening, she had stepped into his arms.

Nathan moves instinctively. He bends his head a little and smells her hair. He breathes in deeply, her scent filling up his lungs. Dammit. She smells so good. So right. _This_ , holding her, _this_ feels so damn right. Nathan moves his hand to clasp the small of her back, pressing her closer. He closes his eyes, trying to remember everything that this moment has to offer him. He wishes there's some way to bottle this up so he can drink it all. And he won’t get greedy. He’d take small sips so he’d always feel this good. Alive. For the first time in so many months. Years, even.

After a few seconds, Nathan feels Haley reluctantly taking a step away from him. He lets go, swallowing hard, missing her warmth, missing her, ridiculous as it may sound, since she's still standing before him, staring into his eyes.

There's something in the way she's looking at him now and Nathan isn't sure what it is, but her face changes, her eyes suddenly going darker.

"Hey," Haley starts quietly, tilting her head, intently watching his face, "Your eyes, they're darker... but... they're the same as Lucas's."


	12. Twelve

**_Twelve_ **

He hears it and she lets out a small embarrassed laugh. "Well, that's attractive," Haley mutters with a roll of her eyes and as much as Nathan thinks of how wonderfully adorable she could be, how her laughter sounds absolutely sincere – both facts sending a warm tingly-pleasure inside his chest – he couldn't stop himself from frowning at her. Worriedly he asks, "When's the last time you've eaten?"

Haley looks genuinely startled at the question. She pauses for a second, wincing. "Ugh, I don't know." She takes a peek up at him, her soulful eyes darker. Somewhere in brown-liquid depths, Nathan sees something he couldn't quite name, but something he remembers feeling. He watches her quietly, waiting for her answer.

"I guess," she mumbles the word, looking past his shoulder, as though waiting for a flicker of memory to come to her.

You lose a love one, you lose yourself. You lose your sense of time, of everything. Memories are suddenly misplaced and one day bleeds into the next and into the other one, two days ago, a month ago, a year ago. Sometimes, even a lifetime ago. Nathan knows that well enough to understand why she seems suddenly scared. Haley's just realizing just how much Lucas had taken away from her since he had died.

Nathan finds himself bending his knees, leaning in a little. He tilts his head trying to catch her attention. "Haley?"

Biting her lips, Haley gives him a quick glance before briefly looking down at her shoes. "Yesterday? Since the accident?" She runs a hand against her hair, blonde-brown, tousled and partly covering her eyes. "I don't remember."

It's a heart breaking confession and this too, Nathan has already figured out. All these irony just keeps piling up on him. The one day his head clears up enough to actually see and hear beyond what everyone in front of him is saying or doing just had to be the day of his brother's funeral. He didn't have this 'social skill' as what Peyton had called it before. And he wasn't particularly keen on acquiring it either. He wasn't known as Mr. Sensitivity in Tree Hill. But so what? The way he saw it (the way his father told him) what was so great about being everyone's best friend? Friends were fun, but careers, basketball careers in particular, aren't built from friendship. Besides, there hadn't been a need to be Mr. Sensitivity to get a lot of friends. He had been the school jock, star basketball player: people flocked to him. He was young, arrogant and brilliant. And so everything had been about him. He only saw and hear what he wanted. Anything else, he had tossed away, discarded, blocked out from his head. Except of course for one particular voice: his dad's.

Even now, once in a while, it'll pipe up in his head. He wants to get rid of it but he's afraid to lose it as well. Nathan is aware of how fucked up that sounds so he shakes his head, takes in a deep breath. He's getting a second chance to live another Life Altering Day ('cause the day his father died wasn't enough, apparently) and he's totally screwing it up.

He quickly sets aside whatever bullshit romantic notions suddenly filling up his head. The hard truth is, he has it all figured out because he knows about this. He has lived through it. He knows how the simplest things, like eating, gets shoved down so far from the list of things to do once you've realized that you have a wake to prepare, a funeral to attend, a death to get used to. He understands but he still wants to grab Haley's shoulder, shake her a little. Pull her out from wherever she is. He knows that place too. That self-contained grief and solitude, somewhere maybe peaceful but totally detached from the world around her.

Nathan knows, oh yes he does, that she'll never find Lucas there. No one is there. That dark place. It's just that, a dark place. He doesn't want her there. He wants ask her to come back to here and now.

To him.

With him.

The last though startles him. Unhinges him. Rattles the very core of existence.

He knows he wants her – in ways he could and couldn't figure out just yet. But God, he wants her and there's only one way to have her.

To not be him. To not want her.

Impossible. Hopeless. Frustrating. Totally fucking ridiculous to even think about.

Love, life, death: so twistedly intertwined. Is this his Lesson of The Day? Is this what Lucas want to teach his shit-head of a brother? That on the day he permanently leaves earth, Nathan has to realize that the unnameable thing he had wanted all his life had existed in Lucas's world? The world he had refused to be a part of. He had banished Lucas to Oak Lake. To Haley.

Nathan clears his throats, "I…you should eat."

His voice comes out all wrong and Haley blinks up at him, almost craning her neck to meet his eyes. "Don't worry about me," She tells him with a small smile, incorrectly reading the storm of emotions in his face. "I'm fine." She adds in a falsely cheerful voice, adding a gentle nudge against his shoulder when he didn't say anything.

Nathan swallows hard, wonders why, even if she had insisted to be alone tonight, why in God's name is no one taking care of her?

Oh, because, right, Lucas used to take care of her and he guesses that someday, some other guy nearly as perfect as Lucas would come along and do just that. Maybe more.

Nathan clenches his jaws at the thought. Bright, possessive thoughts – all out of the question. If he allows himself to get jealous of phantom, imagined future boyfriends, there's no telling what he'll do. He reminds himself that for now, just for tonight, all she has is him. He isn't even good with taking care of things, much less people but he feels like he needs to be here for her, regardless of all these startlingly, fast-tracked feelings he's developing for her. Karen has told him to go look for Haley and take care of her. It's what he'll do. He owes it to Karen and Keith and Lucas.

And so even if his first instinct is to charm her out of her grief, he thinks it's just utterly low if he asks her out now – which is about the only good thing he knows how to do, beside basketball. Story of his life. Although of course, it doesn't have to be like a date _date_ kind of thing, right? He wouldn't even eat. He'd just watch her eat; make sure she gets something in her stomach.

But who was he kidding? For him, it'll be just like a date. It wouldn't take him long before he'd start wanting to hold her hand, to lean forward and kiss her…Nathan closes his eyes demanding his brain to erase that image. He didn't need that. At all. No torture would be worse than having that mental picture seared into his brain and knowing that it's all he'll ever have.

"Nathan?" Haley's voice sounds small and far away and he suddenly remembers something. He snaps his eyes open and without thinking, grabs her delicately small hand, leading her towards his parked car.

* * *

Nathan can feel her eyes watching him as he leans over to open his dashboard. His hand searches inside, grimly, mentally admitting to himself that today has been nothing but a comedy of errors. Somehow, over the course of the day, he has acquired a knack of doing things before thinking it over.

He's always been smooth with girls, has the best ideas ever. He knows how to make them swoon over him. Of course, all that just went flying out of the window the moment he realized that Haley isn't like any other girl. And so instead of being his usual confident self, he nervously clears his throat, muttering unintelligibly as he stretches himself further, he feels his shoulder lightly brushing Haley's knees.

"Here, let me…" Haley offers but he quickly answers with a mumbled, "No it's okay, I got it."

Nathan takes a deep breath, trying to relax. Belatedly, he curses himself for this mistake. Now he can't stop thinking about how he's hoping that Haley's smell would / would not cling – he can't decide which - to his leather upholstery.

To Cling would equal to torture and then the impending disappointment of one day realizing that the scent is gone. But then To Not Cling would also mean the same equal torture – for obvious reason. He doesn't like feeling so out of his element. So out of his skin. But then it's also, in some way – freeing. To discover that he can be not himself. Well, not his usual arrogant, cocky, jerk of a self.

He glances at Haley who smiles at him and when he still doesn't speak, the smile slowly dissolves into a confused arching of her eyebrows. Nathan smiles (winces, actually) back, silently wondering if she thinks he's half-retarded, which would explain why she's been so kindly indulging his weirdness.

Nathan Scott, weird with a girl. Now there's something he had never thought he'd ever be. But here he is now successfully (and finally!) handing her a box of Cracker Jacks, fervently praying to God that's the lights from the basketball court isn't highlighting his nervous, crazy-stupid smile.

"Here," and Nathan is happy to note that he sounds like his usual, confident self. At least he's happy with this particular plan. This doesn't scream date, right? It's just peanut snack. Safe. And he'll have to keep it that way before he figures out a way to get Haley to eat something without looking like he's trying to ask her out.

Nathan silently concentrates on reminding himself to not say anything that would be considered sweet or charming as Haley tentatively accepts his lame – there are no other words for it – attempt at feeding her. She's quietly watching him and again, he has to stop himself from blurting out that normally, he would've taken her to the most exquisitely expensive restaurant in Oak Lake. In the whole of North Carolina. Of both Carolinas actually. He'd let her order anything she wants from the menu. Steak. Lobsters. Anything she wants. This peanut-snacking-thing at his car parked in front of an old basketball court, this isn't how _the_ Nathan Scott rolls. It's just that he's trying to keep a safe distance from her and the truth is, he doesn't really think that she's the type to be impressed by ridiculously priced Italian food – so, Cracker Jacks it is. Down-to-earth, sweet, familiar. Exactly like her.

Thank God he can clench his jaw like nothing else matters. That could have been his first ever rambling, neurotically, insane sentence.

"If it's a cheat code, it's mine." Nathan finally tells her, breaking the semi-awkward silence. There. Nothing remotely sweet about that. But it's enough to make her smile at him. He must've looked pretty serious because Haley lets out a small chuckle.

"Do you always have Cracker Jacks with you?" She asks and he notices how she's having trouble opening the little silver packet. He quickly moves to cover her hand with his and this startles Haley enough that she stiffens for a split-second, practically jumping from her seat.

Nathan instantly stills his hand, laying it on top of hers. "Sorry," he mutters quickly, feeling the tiny currents of electricity running through the exact spot where his skin was touching hers. Her eyes are fixed on their hands before moving up to look at him. And the whole universe stops.

That's how all the songs and books go, right?

Their eyes meet and everything stops.

Lies. Fucking lies.

Nathan can feel his whole world madly spinning off of its axis as that one charged moment stretches on until eternity. Until forever. Until he couldn't breathe anymore. Which may sound romantic, but it's actually true. They're inside this small, intimate, enclosed space and all the oxygen is being sucked out of him and his heart is furiously beating against his rib cage, probably screaming: fuck you, Nathan, you little fucker. Yeah, this is definitely ' _safe'_. Fucking idiot!

And then Haley slowly lowers her eyes, her lashes sweeping against her cheekbones. She takes a deep breath, shaking her head. "No, no, no…it's me. I… I… know…"

Nathan is baffled by the statement, at the way she's suddenly refusing to look at him. "Haley?" He hears her take a deep breath before she finally looks back up at him, biting her lips, sheepishly apologizing.

"Sorry. I get jumpy, sometimes," her eyes are bright and nervous. "For no apparent reason, and really, I'm just weird that way. You don't need to be alarmed or anything although I wouldn't blame you if you are. This is just me, normal. I mean, this is normal for me, the, ugh-"

"Jumpiness." Nathan supplies the word, smiling at her rambling, gently taking the packet from her when she had visibly relaxed.

"Yeah, that." Haley agrees, nodding her head, looking slightly relieved. "So Cracker Jacks, huh?" She asks, going back to their original conversation, brushing aside the weirdness between them that had sprung and blossomed the instant their skin touched.

Or was it when their eyes met? Or did it start before all this? Inside Lucas's room, when he first saw her. Nathan thinks it possible it all started there. He shakes his head, decides that it didn't matter. It will soon be over anyway. Trying to remain cheerful, even if thoughts of their impending separation are slowly taking its roots inside his head, gripping him in silent panic-stricken misery, he gamely grins at her. "Breakfast of champs." He quips easily as he finally rips the packet open.

His fingers find it first. Not the usual cheat code he'd find. It's a bracelet. He pulls it out and is surprised mostly with its color: purple, neon-green, yellow, pink. All the happy colored beads thrown in, strung together. One is shaped like a heart. One tiny plastic heart, tiny plastic flowers, tiny plastic stars. He looks up at her and this time when their eyes meets, the painfully tense moment from earlier is no longer there. It's just them.

Blue meets brown meets blue.

"Here," Nathan says gently, reaching out to take her hand, slipping the bracelet on her. His lets his hand linger on the spot – just beneath her wrist – where, if he presses just a little bit more, he'd feel Haley's pulse. He gently trails the ends of his fingers as he lets her go.

"Don't ever say I never gave you anything."

And it's his sweet, charming line for tonight. But it isn't a flippant banter. He wants to make Haley smile, wants to make her remember him, even in passing. Even if he's going to be That Cracker Jack Guy she'd vaguely remember a few years from now.

Nathan says it seriously too, the words coming from somewhere he had never though had actually existed before. That warm, little corner of his heart.

Smug bastard that he is, he's a hopeless romantic after all.

The shocking revelation instantly sets Haley apart from all the other girls who had never touched that part of him. She's the first one. And from this night on, that space belongs to her now. It's where she'll live when this night is finally over, when he has to go back to Tree Hill and leave Oak Lake for good. It's truly the only bright thing he'd ever have from this day.

That and the memory of her blushing. Pink tainted cheeks. Even in the darkened interior of the car the sweetness of that blush glows. A light of its own. And it's cute. Haley's cute when she's blushing.

"Thanks." Haley tells him, her voice slightly cracking. He can see her swallowing hard as she bent down to examine each of the plastic charms.

It's a small gift and he's heartened by the fact that she seems touched with the gesture. She blinks up at him, "You know what I remember?" Haley says this in a soft murmur, her lips barely moving.

Nathan shakes his head. He has no idea and he wants to know. He wants to know every little detail of that memory. Something of herself that she'll share with him.

She closes her eyes, "Paul and Holly."

This is lost on Nathan. And when Haley sensed the bewildered silence from him, she lets out a small, delicate laugh.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's."

She explains the scene to him, recites the line before closing her eyes again, watching the movie inside her head. She leans her head against the glass, lips upturned in a secret smile.

Nathan immediately claims that smile for himself. He'll always remember her this way. The light from outside forming a barely-there halo around her. She's perfect. And so beautiful in ways that he had never, ever seen before.

"Good movie huh?" He asks after a few second of silence, wanting to hear more, wanting to see more of that smile.

Haley nods her head. She tilts her head to look up at him, "It's one of Lucas's favorite books. He did like the film, I guess since he'd watch it every time Brooke begged him to." The smile on her face remains frozen for a second before cracking entirely as she takes a short gasp of breath, pausing for a second and looking away. "Brooke loved that movie."

The mention of Brooke sets out a different play of emotions on her face. Her eyes dim a little and she starts biting and chewing on her lower lips, as though the pressure of her teeth against the flesh of her mouth made her concentrate on keeping the tears at bay. Her jaws silently work and Nathan can imagine how her throat must feel right now. Thick with tears. Burning with words that wouldn't, couldn't escape past that place from deep within her heart.

She knew. Of course she knew about Lucas and Brooke. Hadn't Brooke told him that?

Nathan glances at Haley, feels something inside of him twisting in ugly recoil. What would Haley tell him if he told her that he knew? He knew everything. She'd ask him why of course, why would Brooke tell you that? Why would you go looking for me in the cemetery? Why would you go to Karen's café? Why would she tell you to come find me?

All those why's, it would lead to one thing only. Lucas. Because Lucas is my brother. I owe him this.

Well, two things actually. But the other reason has absolutely nothing to do with Lucas and everything to do with Haley.

"You know what I remember?" Nathan asks, reaching out to briefly touch her bracelet, almost wary of her skin.

Haley doesn't say anything but she looks up at him with her huge, watery brown eyes and Nathan swallows past the burning lump on his throat.

God, she's so beautiful.

Nathan takes a deep breath, withdrawing his hand. "Alfalfa and Darla."

Haley looks at him uncomprehendingly, "Wha-"

Paul and Holly. Alfalfa and Darla. Those were rings. No one gave anyone a bracelet. It was just them. Nathan and Haley and he especially like that fact. He can feel his heart beating wildly inside his chest and he briefly feels disoriented. Nathan momentarily forgets that he's not supposed to touch her. He moves closer, reaching out to take her hand in his. The same hand where he had slipped the bracelet minutes ago. Nathan feels that he had just handed Haley his heart together with that bracelet and from now on it is hers. She probably doesn't realize it, but that's okay.

"'I had to eat six boxes of Cracker Jacks to find it!'" Nathan quotes that famous line. Haley gives him a blank stare. "Little Rascals." He tells her as her eyes widen in utter bewilderment. He watches as Haley's face scrunches up with uncertainty and then, her whole face clears up and she suddenly bursts out giggling, loud, free, and ringing – the sound so not like the thousands of silver little bells, but pure and beautiful nonetheless.

"What?" She asks, her face a picture of momentary happiness, forgetfulness. Bliss.

He'd made her laugh and something pushes past Nathan's walls and it bursts out, glowing painfully hot inside of him. He starts chuckling and then suddenly, he's laughing with her. Quoting Little Rascals, Alfalfa to be exact. It certainly isn't something to impress girls but with the way Haley is laughing now. He feel as though his chest has expanded to accommodate the sound of her laughter. It fills up the car and flows right into him. Haley has a wonderful laugh.

"Oh my God, I… just, I'm sorry," Haley leans towards him, still laughing, "I just cannot see you watching Little Rascals."

Nathan arches his eyebrows, holding his laughter in, trying to sound wounded. "Oh, 'cause I was a jock?"

Haley shakes her head, tries to stop her giggling. "No, no, I didn't mean it that way." She paused before starting off with another giggling fit. "Well, maybe a little." Her eyes twinkle painfully. "I don't see how you could like someone like Alfalfa." She tells him hiccupping a little.

"I don't like him." Nathan pouts at her and this only made her laughter even harder.

"Oh yes you do."

Nathan rolls his eyes. "So, I kinda do. So what?"

Haley gives him a look of disbelief. "Why, 'cause you were a scrawny, little kid?" She shakes her head. "You were, weren't you?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Nathan answers back good-naturedly. Laugh all you want but Little Rascals is a classic. It's old school." Nathan said, trying to sound indignant.

Haley arches her eyebrows up at him, "Is that how the cool kids say it?" And then another peal of laughter. It echoes around him and Nathan couldn't help but smile at her.

"Very funny. Let it all out."

Haley takes a deep breath, straightens her back and shakes her head. She finally seemed to have gotten her laughter under control and after a few seconds, she looks up at him straight in the eye, "You just surprised me, Nathan."

"Good surprise, bad surprise?" Nathan asks.

Haley seems to think about this for a fraction of a heartbeat before beaming at him. "Good surprise. Definitely." She holds her stare, before blinking back down to shyly tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ears.

Nathan watches her for a few minutes, trying to memorize the way her eyes had twinkled when she laughed. He thinks this is probably something he'd like to do over and over again. Make her laugh. Her assumption of course are correct, he was a scrawny little kid, but he's far from being the geeky, romantic, golden-hearted little boy being bullied by other kids. In fact, if he thought about it, Alfalfa is more like… Lucas.

The realization must have come to her as it did him and cursing himself for not having thought about this thoroughly, he starts to apologize, Haley surprises him as she leans forward and hugs him, settling her head against his chest, crushing the Cracker Jack in between them.

"Thanks." She murmurs gently, the warmth of her breath seeping through his clothes. Nathan brings an arm around her shoulder, not pressing her into him, just holding her. He isn't sure if she's crying. He doesn't feel the burn of her tears, just the rhythmic sound of her breathing.

Nathan hopes those tears she wouldn't let fall won't end up poisoning her, like it did to all the other people he knew who kept everything inside – and that includes his own father, his own mother and himself.

"I'm glad, Nathan." Haley says quietly.

"About what?" Nathan asks, his chin brushing against her soft hair.

"About you being a good surprise."

Nathan can feel her lips moving against his shirt and he finally surrenders to the feel of having Haley inside his arms.


	13. Thirteen

**_Thirteen_ **

"I don't think that's enough." Nathan observes as Haley finishes off the Cracker Jack. He looks down at her as she very lightly licks her lips, as though chasing some sweet after-taste. Nathan can hear a low buzzing sound inside his head and it takes him a moment to realize that he is actually, shamelessly turned on by that littlest, most innocent of motion. He shakes his head and takes a deep, soundless breath, trying not to look so damn obvious. He can feel his heart pounding inside his chest and he isn't sure how it's possible that Haley cannot hear it. He concentrates on calming himself down that he almost misses Haley's answer.

"No, it's fine. I like it." She gives him a thankful smile, in that same shade of innocence. She doesn't seem to be aware at all of how she's wreaking havoc inside what used to be his carefully guarded, walled-up chest, lungs, the general heart area. Everything that had to do with his breathing seems to be somewhat either controlled or affected by the very nearness of her.

Nathan shifts a little farther away from Haley. Distance is safe. Safer at least. "No, I mean, how about a _proper_ dinner?" He needs this excuse so he can still stretch what limited amount of time he has with Haley. That's secondary of course. His primary concern is Haley's wellbeing. Or vice versa. Or maybe it's a close tie between those two. Nathan cannot decide yet. "We could go to the cafe." He offers instead, giving Haley what he hopes is an encouraging smile. Nothing too eager. It might scare her off. After all, they were still stranger. They had shared one remarkable moment but that didn't make them anymore than barely acquainted. All they had, what connected them together, is a thin red line called Lucas Scott.

Haley bites her lips and shakes her head. "I don't want to go there yet."

And she didn't have to explain. Nathan understood all at once. _Too many memories_. There were places he avoided after Dan died. Mostly their home. But it wasn't because of memories. A lot of his memories with his dad – both the good and the bad ones – never happened inside their home. It was mostly on the court, or on the road, on the many trips they shared together. Their house was just too suffocating and a lot of it had to do with his mom's grief. His mother hadn't meant to saturate their home with her tears and regrets, but it has a way of clinging to things – invisible little dark clouds of sadness. Nathan hopes for the sake of everyone in Oak Lake that Karen's Café does not suffer the same fate as their house back in Tree Hill did. "We could go anywhere you want." He offers reassuringly.

Haley hesitates. She sits silently for a few seconds, chewing at her bottom lips. Nathan let's her think about it, his eyes never leaving her small figure, almost swallowed up by the dark, leather interior of his car. Nathan wonders at how it's possible that he hasn't grown tired of watching her and he thinks of every little gesture she makes: her head bowed a little, in concentration; her right hand nervously tugging the strings of her newly acquired bracelet; the constant movement of her teeth against her lips. Nathan is fascinated by her. Enthralled by her. Until she looks up at him and promptly breaks the almost hypnotic spell she has on him.

Haley's gaze is steady and inquiring, her brown eyes searching. And for the first time since he'd seen her, a flicker of something dark, something so very akin to distrust – an unvoiced accusation – crosses against her features, very briefly, but it was so clear that Nathan suddenly feels as though a bucket full of ice had been dumped over his head, coldness painfully sluicing down his back. Paralyzing him. He feels his stomach painfully cramping, clenching into a small fist of protest.

"Haley, I – " Nathan hears the broken tone of his voice but he ignores it. He rattles his brain for anything, _anything_ he might have done that could have offended her. That could have hurt her, that could've caused that look…but there is nothing…

She clears her throat, shakes her head and lets out a sigh before finally turning her attention back to him. Her brown eyes clear, bright. Like earlier but different somehow. "Thank you for the cracker jacks Nathan and for the bracelet," she tells him politely. The warmth in her voice had receded. Subtly, but he feels it. Not ice cold. Not yet anyway. She reaches out to squeeze Nathan hands, as though in apology and Nathan reads the hesitation in her touch. He already knows the words she'll say next and it makes him cringe.

"I think I just want to go home now."

Nathan wants to ask her why. He wants to beg her to not make him leave her yet. But he doesn't. He has no right to ask her for any favors. He swallows hard. "Of course," He isn't sure if Haley actually heard him. His words are almost drowned out by the sound of the engine suddenly springing into life. Wordlessly, he pulls out of the parking lot.

* * *

Nathan is thankful that at least Haley did not insist that she goes home alone. She's sitting awfully quiet next to him and Nathan is plagued by the many words he wants to tell her. All of them starting off with an apology but he isn't sure what he's supposed to be apologizing for.

He'd already apologized if his behavior and invitation had sounded too forward, that he wasn't trying to intruded in anything, he just wanted to make sure she was okay, because she hadn't eaten and…well, thankfully, Haley rescued him from that awkward apology.

She had smiled gently at him, warmly even, and had reassured him that he hadn't done anything wrong. It's been a long day and she was just tired. She gave him the directions to her place and that was the last thing she had said.

Nathan winces at memory and at the silence permeating inside his truck. Several times, he tried to start a conversation with her but was met with silence. Not entirely unwelcoming but she had obviously spaced out and wasn't really listening to him. He couldn't fault her for that. After all that she'd been through, the last thing he'd expect from her was to be all chatty and friendly.

Nathan understands but he still feels vaguely hurt by her silence. He can feel the muscles of his mouth moving to form a childish pout. He has never wanted anyone's attention so badly before. It feels strange to be on the receiving end of this kind of treatment. He'd spaced out countless of times when he was with other girls, imaging himself to be somewhere else. Often times at a basketball court, visualizing layups and dunks and free-throws.

Nathan wonders where Haley is now. At some place where Lucas is alive and well, the two of them at the café, having coffee, telling each other how their days went. He briefly visualizes himself with them, sitting beside Haley, arms casually draped over her shoulder. The gesture is friendly yet possessive in some way. He's sitting too close to her, his fingers gently curled around her arms. He sees Lucas smirking at them. A knowing, almost playful smirk. That is if Lucas is capable of actually smirking. Nathan involuntarily smiles at that.

This is all inside his head of course and Nathan wonders if this alternate universe can ever be possible. He'll never know and so he let's go of the image – was it a hopeful imaging on his part? Nathan isn't sure. He feels the petulant, childish hurt ebbing away as he lets her silence drape around them, it feels like something wistful. The end of something.

* * *

Haley lives almost at the edge of town. Normally it's a fifteen-minute drive from the basketball court where Nathan had found her. On a slow night like this, maybe even less than that. But for the sole purpose of delaying their inevitable parting, Nathan had driven slowly, almost too carefully: his full, undivided concentration on the road, on the shifting of gears, on the glancing at side mirrors, at the checking of his gas. He refused himself stolen, distracting glances. It wasn't until after stopping at a red light and finally gathering enough courage to turn and look at Haley did he realize that she had fallen asleep.

There was something so precious with the sight of her hands curled up underneath her chin, her face so serene. Almost childlike. It touched Nathan and if someone had seen him, they would have noticed how Haley's peaceful countenance had somehow mirrored itself on Nathan's face. They were suddenly younger and free of pain and disappointment and Nathan would've sat there forever watching her sleep if some jackass hadn't blown his horn at him.

The light had turned green and Nathan was forced to leave that moment.

This is how everything will end, he tells himself as he sneaks quick glances – no longer exercising self-control (he's never really quite good at that anyway) – at his sleeping companion. He listens to the sound of her breathing. It's an oddly comforting sound. Calming. He feels his own breathing matching hers and he's so taken aback by this. He's never felt so connected with someone so profoundly. And however short this connection is, the mere thought of severing his ties with Haley, it feels like… well, it makes him feel _lost_.

Nathan can't understand how it's possible to feel so much for one day, for one person. A part of him, the rational part of him, thinks that it's nothing more than some left over emotions from today. Lucas's death had been so sudden, it had brought out too much _feelings._ Too strong feelings and that he's merely connecting it with Haley because… and that's when his rational self loses the argument.

Nathan feels the connection with Haley because she'd shown him kindness he's never quite experienced before. Because stranger he might be, she had opened up to him and had let him see her be vulnerable. Until that very last second when she suddenly put up her own walls, so fast and so high, it made Nathan's head spin.

The thought of Haley shutting him out fills him with the sensation of his heart shrivelling inside his chest, but he chose to ignore that. This isn’t about him and his feelings.

He takes a deep breath and replays the scene inside his head once more: the look in Haley's eyes when she had told him earlier that she'd rather be home than go anywhere with him. There was something in it that nagged at him; that pulled at the alarm bells inside his head. It isn’t full on tolling like crazy, just a slight tug enough for him to know that something is up. A small warning. Like he knew she was already saying good bye – but more than that, like he had somehow, in some way _hurt_ her.

Nathan is desperate to believe Haley when she said that she was just tired, he had heard the sincerity in her voice, but there was something about the way her mood had suddenly shifted that threw him so totally out of balance. It was the thought of him hurting her that bothered him the most. He couldn't accept that. He didn't even want to think of such a concept. The mere possibility of it.

But there must have been something that he had said or done. He's Nathan Scott, after all. Wasn't that what people thought of him most of the time? That he's capable of doing awful things. Even hurting someone like Haley James. Even if he hadn't meant to?

Nathan grits his teeth and shakes his head. He'll go fucking insane if he continue thinking this way. If Haley had said it was nothing, then it must be nothing. He'll leave it at that. The other option was just too painful to bear. He rationalizes that he should not have expected Haley to have trusted him right away. It was impossible. It had never happened to him before – gaining instant trust from a complete stranger – why did he think it'll happen now? He could not fault her for being suspicious of him. She seems like a smart girl, one who would not have welcomed him so easily into her life or trusted him enough to let him drive her home while she slept in the car.

Mourning makes you do weird shit. Grief guarantees that you’d do things you never thought you’re capable of doing.

Nathan shrugs off the bitter disappointment before it lodges somewhere deep in his heart. He has to learn to accept this sort of things. He reminds himself that he was only trying to help Haley. To ease some of her pain.

Over the course of the few hours he'd spent with Haley, Nathan has forgotten how he's not supposed to want Haley. He reminds himself of this and he starts to dial down his interest in her, his slowly growing, unexplainable need for her.

It's futile. It's not meant to be. And more importantly, it's over, even before it had started.

And really, what more can he ask for? He has Keith back in his life. Mrs. Roe does not think he's a horrible person – in fact, if he hopes hard enough – maybe Mrs. Roe doesn't even blame him and his mother for all the terrible things that had happened to her and Lucas all those years ago.

Most of all, he had his moments with Haley, didn't he? He'd helped her somehow. Wasn't that what he's meant to do? He concentrates on keeping his eyes on the road, away from Haley; Haley the sunbeam. Yellow and light and pure and true.

Nathan's head is filled with all sorts of adjective for her. He thinks they're all inadequate, but maybe someday, when he's ninety-five and sitting by the fire, when he's finally wiser, he'd remember Haley and her yellow dress and he'll finally find the perfect word to describe her.

Without warning, a word blazes inside his head, its fiery possessiveness surprises him.

_Mine._

It burns him to his core but he casts the word aside, flings it far away from him so that he won't be tempted to ever think of it. Let it be a dream, an unfulfilled wish – but a wish nonetheless.

_Mine._

He grips the steering wheel as he turns at a corner, angry at himself for how little control he has over his mind. Or heart. Or both, actually.

_Mine._

He speeds up a little, almost suddenly eager to get away from Haley. It can't be normal or healthy to feel this way. To be so out of control over everything. Nathan isn't used to this and he's sure that if he even so much as _tries_ he'll only end up ruining it. Just like his dad ruining all the good things.

Stepping down on the gas, trees almost hurtling past them, Nathan nearly misses it, but he stops just in time as soon as he sees it. It's exactly as Haley had described it.

The four-storey white and blue apartment building stood like a solitary sentinel over a mini-garden forest. There's a small fountain in front and as he lowers the window the sound of water splashing and spluttering fills the car, chasing away the silence inside the car.

Nathan tilts his head to scan the doors. Five doors on every floor, he counts them, one to ten, until on the third floor, the first door on the left, he catches a glimpse of the gilded number _11,_ marking Haley's apartment.

There are pots of purple flowers on the small terrace jutting out from the left side of her apartment. There's a small glass top table with an abandoned cup of coffee sitting right at its very edge. He can imagine Haley sitting there the night she got the call that Lucas had died. She would've left in a hurry, confused, in denial, trying not to cry. He wishes there was another cup, at least for someone to have been there with her, it seemed to awful to even think about her being all by herself when she received that call. He can see her small form standing rigid by the table, the shock of the news turning her blood ice cold, her hands gripping the phone…Nathan stops the mental images right there.

He should not be fantasizing about these sorts of things. Prior to today, he didn't even know of Haley's existence. How can he make picture-perfect imaginations of her daily life? Nathan distracts himself by sweeping his eyes over the small terrace. He can see little bulbs hanging by the railings. In daylight, it must look such a pretty, delicate sight, the flowers and the table and curled and curling iron railings. Something so very Haley-like. At night, with all the lights turned off, it seems almost like a sad, forgotten space.

Nathan lets out a mournful sigh. It seems fitting. This is where he'll have to say goodbye. An agonizing pang reverberates inside his chest. Nathan doesn't want to leave her yet. He doesn't want her to leave him yet. He wants to stay with her. Nathan turns his head to face Haley and is surprised to find her looking at him, that same searching look in her brown eyes. Inquisitive. He feels breathless, exposed, like she has a way of seeing all the thoughts that had been running inside his head. Before Nathan can even say anything, before he can even open his mouth, Haley is already inviting him to come up to her place.

"Just for a cup of coffee." She adds almost shyly, as though she had read something in his face that had caused her to suddenly blush. Nathan can see the reddening of her cheeks.

Nathan didn't even bother to hide the pleased smile stretching across his face. He doesn't even think twice. He nods his head, grateful, happy. And he is suddenly filled with light inside of him.

At this point, Nathan is sure of this, he never wants to leave Haley. Ever.


	14. Fourteen

**_Fourteen_ **

Ridiculous. This is how Nathan is going to forever remember this day. From the way it started to where he is right now, silently following Haley up the steps to her apartment, his heart doing some sort of complicated gymnastic-like somersaults before jack-knifing and rushing down to the pit of his stomach.

See? Totally fucking ridiculous.

There is also that lingering feeling of disconnect; like he's having an out of body experience. It's exactly the way he used to feel when he was younger, watching an endless parade of videotaped high school games.

Dan had all his games recorded. Or rather, his dad had asked someone from the coaching team to record his son's games. And not in the light-hearted home made movies of his youth kind of recording. There were absolutely no shots of Dan or Deb cheering or smiling on the sidelines. None of that sentimental bullshit. His dad loathed that.

The video cam followed Nathan's every move, capturing all of his glory. And all of his many glaring mistakes, including, but not limited to: several shots of him angrily hurling incentives, glaring at referees, glaring at the crowd (probably looking at Dan), all his deliberate, Technical, hard physical fouls and an epic scene of him throwing the ball at the back of Lucas's head which ended in a brawl that almost got him kicked out of the team.

Fun times.

There are about hundred or so VHS tapes stacked and boxed somewhere inside his room. His father's handwriting, large and bold, scribbled on the white sticker on the side. Everything painstakingly labelled: **_Game 2/vs Oak Lake/Semi-finals/W_**.

This was Dan's way of showing his fatherly devotion.

And yes, the W indicates a win. An angry red L if they lost.

Dan used to arrange them by the Ws and Ls. In case Nathan lost count of the number of games he'd lost. Dan kept this video library/scoreboard in their Father-son room, where, for two hours every weekend, Nathan would always find himself sitting in front of the TV scrutinizing, analyzing and learning his game. There were plenty of good memories on that room, Nathan couldn't deny that. All those exchanging of grins and high five, proud pats on his shoulder. His dad's eyes shining with pride.

Of course, there were bad memories. Nathan couldn't win all of his games. And he could remember those silent hours filled with nothing but the sound of gnashing and gritting teeth. Exasperated sighs and a lot of finger pointing. "There Nathan, tell me what the hell was that?" Dan would ask as he pause a game.

It was always such a pain in the ass trying to catch the smallest details: the way he twisted his ankles, the movement of his feet, the spin of the ball, the position of his thumb, the distance of his knees as he takes a free throw (always too far apart, according to Dan, even if Nathan had the best stat for free throws in the whole state of North Carolina).

Nathan hated being forced to watch his games. It's like slipping to a Dan Scott skin, berating himself for his obvious mistakes. Everything is slightly wrong. Imperfect. And the torture doesn't end there. Because Dan will ask him afterwards, during dinner, 'So son,' he'd start, thoughtfully chewing his lamb chop, pausing to swallow, 'what went wrong with that game? On that play?'

Nathan can't just shrug and say 'I missed the shot.' That was absolutely unacceptable. He has to know exactly why he missed the shot and explain it to his father. Sometimes he'd try to defend himself ('Coach Whitey said' and beginning his sentence with this always ended with an argument and stony silence. Sometimes even skipped dinner) but most of the time, he'd just acknowledge and agree with Dan. It's the only way he can have his dinner in peace.

Deb would often complain about this and had foolishly banned basketball talks during dinner. That went about as well as Nathan trying not to sneer at Lucas. Deb ended up taking dinner at her work, coming home later, purposely avoiding any family meals altogether.

Nathan shakes his head, trying to rid himself of all these Dan-related thoughts. He was sure he'd gotten over it by now, but something about this day seemed to have dredged up a lot of the old memories he'd discarded and forgotten about. This has been the most he had thought about Dan in a long time.

But it's different now. Different somehow. He didn't feel that old bitterness. That snarling bite of anger. It's just memories now. Not something heavy or hurtful. Which was why had had been trying to forget about them in the first place. He wonders if this has something to do with Lucas.

Or maybe even Haley.

Nathan takes a quick peek at her and felt his heart lurching forward once more. It wasn't just attraction. It was something more than that. But since he'd never felt anything other than plain physical attraction with other girls, Nathan doesn't have a way of knowing or even naming what exactly he was feeling for Haley. He'd never noticed so many things in a girl in such a short period of time. Nathan feels like he knows her. But he knows that it's impossible because he'd just met her.

His father and even his closest friends think that he lives in his own Nathan Scott World, oblivious to everything that did not have anything to do with him and it might have been true before, a few hours ago to be exact, but all that self-centeredness went flying out of the window today. Gone. Kaput. Suddenly, all he can think about was himself in relation to Haley James, to Oak Lake, even to Lucas.

How many times had Lucas tread these same steps towards Haley's apartment? Would Lucas also silently follow Haley, as though in reverence? In a respectful, friendly distance? Or did Lucas have his arms around Haley, laughing and playful teasing each other, joking about an old friend, reminiscing about the good old days?

Nathan cocks his head in surprise. He's starting to wonder a lot about his dead, older half-brother.

Wow, that's a mouthful over there, Nathan thinks not unkindly. He's still not sure what (and how) to think of Lucas so he shoves Lucas at the back of his mind, bringing his attention back to Haley.

Nathan had never been what people would call a 'chatter'. He'd never been one to start a conversation. Being friendly wasn't one of his many sterling qualities. Unless there was a pretty girl involved and then he can turn on the charm and steer the conversation to wherever he wanted it to lead to: a date, a quick make-out and groping session, a few hours in his bedroom. With Haley though, and she was by far the prettiest girl he'd ever met, he can barely come up with words to make her turn and look at him. He feels like he's been thrown back in time when he hasn't figured out yet that girls found him hugely attractive. He feels almost shy. And yes, strangely, wonderfully, nervous too.

Add that to the list of the many new emotions he's suddenly feeling.

And don't forget dying curiosity, Nathan thinks as he watched Haley's head bobbing up and down, her hair lightly bouncing as she took two steps at the time, as though in a nervous hurry.

Nathan desperately wants to know what Haley is thinking. She's been awfully quiet when they got out of the car. He can sense some sort of hesitation, maybe even a bit of regret at suddenly inviting him over to her apartment. Was she expecting that he would decline? Did she want him to decline? Was she just being polite when she offered him coffee? And if she was, how could he have not felt that? How could he have so eagerly said yes?

Nathan gazed at Haley's back, wondering if she's some sort of human magnet. Maybe she was the positive and he was the negative? Magnets worked that way right? But didn't they repel each other? Or was that opposites attract? Goddamn it. He'd never paid any attention to this sort of thing when he was still in High School. And more than that, why is he suddenly thinking about such idiotic things?

Frowning darkly, he lets his head drop for a minute, watching the way his shoes would fold at his every step. He feels like he's been climbing this stair for hours. And yet he knows that it's not possible. Time had suddenly become a big puzzle to him. It seems to infinitely stretch out and yet he knows that by the end of the night, in a few hours at least, when he finally has to say good bye to Haley, time will be too painfully, regrettably short.

His head is so totally messed up right now.

Nathan takes a deep breath. Okay, Scott, it's called being nervous, he quietly tells himself. Acknowledge it instead of being afraid of it. Man up! It's just like facing a better, stronger, taller, undefeated team. It's all about overcoming your fear. It's all about attitude.

Nathan can feel his shoulder lifting up at the internal pep talk. He tries to channel Whitey and what his old coach would usually tell them when they were about to face a better team. So what if this is the first time you'd ever felt nervous and so completely inadequately overwhelmed? Calm the fuck down. Take deep breaths and avoid talking. Avoid thinking. Do not look at Haley's ass. Deliciously curvaceous ass, yes, but look away now.

Not exactly what Whitey might have said, Nathan belatedly thinks.

"I can make some mac and cheese." Haley's voice suddenly and effectively stops his insane, inner monologue.

Nathan looks up and finds her gazing down at him. His brain short circuits. It's the only possible explanation for this. Because he sees an image inside his head, of him and her, sitting on a stair – very much like this – crazily making out. In between kisses, Haley will pull back and smile up at him, playfully pushing him away.

This daydream, this flash of fantasy, this wishful thinking, whatever it was, it snaps Nathan into action and he does the unthinkable. He takes a huge step and is instantly in front of Haley. He can practically reach up and twirl a lock of her hair on his finger. Not like he'd do it of course. Because really? What is he supposed to say when he actually does that? "Your hair is so soft."

"I'm sorry, what?" Haley asks, confused. She blinks up at him, obviously startled to find him suddenly so close to her but she doesn't take a step back, she meets his gaze head-on.

Oh fuck. Nathan gulps down and mentally curses his stupid feet and his equally idiotic, traitorous mouth. He clears his throat and tries to ignore the way Haley is looking at him right now. "I…ugh, I was thinking more along the lines of a…ugh, a steak?" He blurts out in a totally, undeniably nervous way. "Or lobsters. I mean, its dinner right, not like, I don't know, not a mac and cheese kind of meal…" he trails off before he finally, miraculously bites the inside of his cheeks, preventing him from spewing off more inanities.

Haley gives him an incredulous look and laughing softly, she playfully lectures him, "Dude, mac and cheese, food of the Gods."

Nathan returns the teasing tone, "If they're five years old."

Haley's smile reaches her eyes.

Yes! He hasn't completely totally lost it yet, he mentally congratulates himself. "And don't call me dude." He adds, raising his eyebrows at her. Nathan is utterly not prepared by the reaction from Haley. The smile quickly evaporates; it was as if her light had suddenly dimmed. Nathan is quick to apologize.

Haley shakes her head and looks away, "No it's okay. It's just…" She gives him a sad smile. "Lucas hates it when I call him that, too."

“I don’t hate it. Really, I was just teasing you.” He reassures her. She can pretty much call him whatever she likes and it’s fine with him.

Nathan watches she bites her lips and shakes her head. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Hey look, you should stop apologizing. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

She gives him a little grimace, swallowing slowly before turning away and Nathan is left standing at the staircase watching as she fumbles through her handbag, looking for her keys.

He thinks maybe her hands are shaking, but he isn't sure. Nathan quietly steps behind her, hesitating for a moment before moving to stand next to Haley, needing to be closer to her.

She really is so tiny. He's looking down at the top of her head and he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and drop a kiss, right there, that soft, sweet spot on top of her head. It was the only comforting gesture he can think of and he wishes Haley would just look at him, let him know that it's okay to hold her. Instead, she lets out a sigh.

"You're a little bit like him, you know." This is said in the softest whisper and if Nathan hadn't been standing so close to her, he would not have been able to hear her.

They're silent for a few minutes, until Haley finally finds her keys, wordlessly opening her door. When she looks up at him, there were tears in her eyes. Nathan looks down at their shoes. Such tiny feet. Everything about Haley James looks delicate. He didn't want to break her. He didn't want to lie to her. He takes a deep breath. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

Nathan closes his eyes and imagines Haley looking confused, doubtful, a light of recognition flashing on her eyes. He swallows past a tennis-ball sized lump on his throat and bravely looks up at her, meeting her brown eyes. Wincing painfully, he tells her one truth. "'Cause he's a great guy. I'm not."

The words rip at his heart, a large chunk of it tears and bleeds away and with a sad sigh, Nathan hands that piece of useless broken part over to Haley.

* * *

The door swings open and they stand there, his heart in her open palm.

Haley shakes her head and Nathan thinks that this is where she'll tell him that she had changed her mind and that he needs to leave her alone. He's prepared to that. But he's completely taken aback as Haley suddenly reached out, her small hands urgently closing around his wrist. It's as if she knows that he's about to leave.

"Nathan, don't." Haley's voice is strong and so completely unexpected in her tininess, her delicateness. "Don't say that. I don't believe it."

Nathan is surprised not because she thinks he's someone better, but because of the sincerity in her voice. She truly doesn't believe that he's unworthy of her, of being welcomed into her home – maybe, possibly into her life.

"Why? You don't even…you don't know me," the words are wrenched from out of his throat. He hates the fact that they don't know each other, that despite whatever connection they have, they are still, essentially strangers to each other. Yeah, sure, she knows _this_ Nathan. This Nathan who taught her how to shoot a basket, who has cracker jacks to give out to grieving girls, who is surprisingly polite and nervous too. But Haley didn't know the sixteen year old Nathan who stole a school bus for a stupid dare, or the Nathan who didn't break hearts on purpose but didn't care if hearts _were_ broken, or the Nathan that despised and loved his father in insanely equal amounts. Or how about Nathan, the younger brother who had wished his older brother away? If Haley knew about those, will she still think, will she still believe that he isn't a bad guy?

Haley eyes are on him, a shade darker. "You've been kind to me Nathan. Not many boys would have taken on a crying girl crazily shooting a basketball." A deep blush had risen to her cheeks and Nathan isn't sure if it's from embarrassment of something else entirely. "So, don't say you're a bad guy."

Nathan wanted to believe her but he knows it isn't true. She doesn't understand. And Nathan would rather that she never finds out. He'd rather Haley remembers him as someone who is kind. This is his only chance at being a knight in shining armor. Better not ruin her memory of him. In fact…Nathan straightened his shoulder and standing taller, he takes a step back and gently pulls free from Haley's grip. "I shouldn't even be here." He's mumbling the words so he clears his voice, tries to sound stronger, firmer. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I should go."

Nathan isn't sure how he's able to utter those words and sound convincing. It's the last thing he wants to do, but he knows that it's the right thing. What is he playing it? He can't be here. Just because Haley was kind enough to invite him, it didn't mean that he should just waltz in to her life and do what? Wreck havoc. That's what he's good at. That's what all these would come to if he even allowed himself a few more minutes with her.

His life is already complicated as it is. He shouldn't be dragging her down with him. This is the last place where he should be. He'll leave now before he loses whatever sense of rightness and unselfishness he's suddenly in possession of. He'll come back to the café and ask maybe Keith and Karen to come to her place and keep her company. He still believes that she should not be alone tonight, but he's the last person who she should be with. Not tonight, on this night of all nights. And with the way he's feeling now, this unbearable, undeniable attraction he was feeling for her, this was the worst time to be let himself be alone with Haley.

Haley stares up at him and Nathan is startled by the look of sadness in her eyes, she quickly looked away, biting her lips, "Are…are you sure you want to go? I just… I just wanted…" Nathan watches as she glances inside the darkened room, it seemed to be engulfed in nothing but shadows.

It was too quiet. Too lonely. Too deserted.

Haley looked back up at him, trying to smile bravely, "I make a real mean mac and cheese." She offered, "Please? Let me at least thank you for taking care of me earlier."

Nathan is torn. He shoves his hands deep in his pocket, feeling oddly spent, and empty – like he had spilled everything, every dark secret, every dark truth he had ever held inside his heart. He thinks it isn't fair that it's all that he could give Haley that, but he has nothing else. It's a terrible gift to give and Nathan wishes he has something better for her. Maybe someday in the future, now that he'd seen a glimpse of kindness, maybe he can offer her something brighter, something that will always make her smile. Something that will always light up her face.

Someday.

Something.

Two empty words.

Someday sounds too far away and something sounds too vague. He isn't going to offer Haley that either. He's here now. He can stay just for a few minutes. Just until he's sure that Haley will be okay. In fact, he'll even suggest that she call Karen or any of her friends to come over and stay with her.

Groaning inwardly, Nathan shakes his head. He knows he will regret it but how could he say no to her? To those brown eyes? "Ok, but just for a few…" he didn't even have the time to complete his sentence; Haley has already taken his hands and guided him inside her apartment, switching on the lights.

"Sit." She orders him, sounding a little more relaxed, "I'll go prepare us some mac and cheese." When he didn't move, she gently pushes him but Nathan doesn't even _budge_. Haley gives him a pointed look and Nathan quickly folds his frame into a low couch the color of sunbursts. Haley seems to like yellow a lot, he thinks to himself as he watches her walk into a room, which he assumes is the kitchen. He lets his eyes roam over her apartment.

Haley's place _is_ Haley. Small and warm, with colors ranging from sunny yellow to dark purple, Nathan automatically notes the splotches of green here and there. There's a study table tucked away in a corner, covered with papers, picture frames and CDs. There's a small piano on the corner, two guitars and a thousand books; spilling over bookshelves, stacked on the floors. Nathan is drawn towards the bookshelf with the most books and he surveys the titles and the authors. The titles don't mean anything to him; the authors are all names without faces. Nathan frowns. He doesn't know anything about this world.

"Half of them are probably Lucas's. He reads a lot. Like, a _lot_. And he thinks it's his duty to force me to read as much as he does."

Haley is standing on the arched doorway, watching him. Nathan feels self-conscious. It's an incredibly odd feeling. "That's him." He said, nodding towards one of the pictures sticking from inside the glass-encased bookshelf. Haley walks up towards him, standing close enough for him to smell her scent.

It isn't a perfume because there is no way the world that can bottle up her smell. It's like the scent of early morning. Like freshly-cut grass, morning dew and something inexplicably sweet. Not honey, not rose or jasmine, not some flowery shit. Just clean and sweet and Haley. She stands on her tiptoes to look at the picture, her shoulder brushing against his.

Nathan feels ridiculous wattages of electricity jumping from her skin to his. He might actually light up himself. Human light bulb, that's him. He feels his lips moving to form a self-satisfied little smile.

"The haircut _is_ a little silly," Haley tells him, catching the idiotic grin plastered on his face.

"What, no…I didn't mean it that way…." Flustered, Nathan tries to recover but notices Haley chuckling beside him. "So Stanford." Nathan declares instead, noting both their background and the matching red sweatshirts.

"Yeah. From our first day." Nathan notices the subtle change in her voice. He's never really quite sure what bittersweet meant, not until this day, not until he hears it in Haley's voice. Sees it in her eyes. "I bought him that sweatshirt." Her smile wavers at a memory, "I bribed him with Stanford goodies and then I begged him to go with me. When that didn't work, I tried threatening him with bodily harm."

Nathan feels his stomach clutching. A familiar sensation whenever Haley tells him something that he already knows about Lucas. He wants to interrupt her and tell her that he'd seen and ignored Lucas during Duke and Stanford games. Nathan swallows hard. It doesn't seem so impossible now. Lucas had found a way to effectively erase Nathan from his life. Lucas had never bothered telling his best friend about a younger brother. And why should Lucas tell Haley about him anyway? He'd escaped Tree Hill. What was the point of talking about a younger brother who did nothing but treat him like dirt?

"That was a joke, by the way." Haley tells him, her eyebrows perfectly arched. “Not that I can’t inflict bodily harm when needed.”

"Of course." Nathan mumbles, shaking his head, pulling himself out of these reveries. No point in dwelling about the past. He'd rather savor this moment now. He glances at Haley and he is certain that if he had met Haley during high school, he would never have gone to Duke. He'd follow her to Stanford. Without all the goodies, begging and threats of bodily harm. Even with Dan screaming bloody fucking murder. Oh, he'd love that. Dan has always scoffed at the girls that Nathan dated. His father somehow knew that they would never come between his dreams of Nathan going to Duke and then straight to NBA. But Haley would have been different. Nathan doesn't know how he's sure of this. But he _knows_ it in his bones. He can feel his life altering, going through a different course had Haley been in _his_ life. Although Nathan thinks that Haley would definitely look so much better in blue.

"It was another basketball college," Haley is saying, "but I said it's better if he didn't run away from basketball altogether. He loved it. He loved playing the game. There's no point pretending that he didn't. That'll be like denying a huge part of his life. It wasn't not the easiest thing to do, facing all of the What-Could've-Beens every day, but Lucas did it anyway. He's brave like that." The pride in Haley's voice is unmistakable.

Nathan frowns, confused. Run away from basketball. "Why did he? I mean, why did he stop playing then?" He vaguely remembers reading something about this, a snippet about Lucas Scott not playing for any college. He had snorted and thrown the local newspaper away, thinking what a wussy his bastard half-brother was. He hadn't read the whole article of course. He just could not have been bothered by it. Especially not by an article endlessly rhapsodizing Lucas's talent and love for the game.

Haley pauses, blinking as though suddenly waking up from a dream. She refocuses her eyes on the picture of Lucas, shaking her head. "Lucas, he's... he's got a heart condition." Haley turns to look at him, and the startled expression that she must've worn the first time she found out is still etched on her face. A faint shadow. It still has that shade of desperation in it. Like she still couldn't believe that it's true. "HCM. Lucas has HCM. It's-"

"Hypertrophic cardimyopathy." Nathan interrupts, unable to stop himself. He feels like he had just suddenly swallowed a thousand pound of gritty sand. It fills up his mouth. He grinds his teeth, his throat suddenly going dry. Closing up.

Haley gives him a strange look.

Nathan can feel Haley's gaze. The weight of it is almost unbearable but he couldn't find it in himself to say anything. He clenches his jaws, chokes at the taste of something so very painfully bitter.

Oh fucking shit.

_Fuckfuckingshit._

He had never even thought about the possibility of Lucas having the same heart condition as Dan. How could he have not even wondered about it? He'd been so incredibly selfish and self-absorbed. He remembered feeling the rush of relief when he found out that he was clear from HCM. It was quickly followed by a deep burning guilt for being relieved that he did not share that damaged gene from his dad, and how fucked up is that?

HCM was hereditary and the moment Dan found out about his HCM, he had Nathan tested. When the result came out negative Nathan was torn between wanting to celebrate and keeping a somber mood, after all his father was still sick with it. And there he was, all healthy and with a bright future ahead of him.

Fortunately for Dan, he had the money to get the best kind of medical care and he'd never really showed any signs of being sick. Except for that day when he had a heart attack and died afterwards. Nathan can feel his own heart constricting. Had his father even bothered to tell Lucas? Did his father got Lucas tested too?

He would've, Nathan thought, trying to ignore the small voice of uncertainty inside his head. Dan might not win any Father of the Year award, but he would've definitely told Lucas. Nathan didn't want to ask the question. He'd rather believe in his dad this one time. He owed it to Dan.

"That's tough." Nathan finally works enough courage to say something to fill in the sudden silence that surrounded them. He ignores Haley's look. The one silently asking how in the hell did he know what HCM stands for. It's not like it's a common disease. But he can't answer that. He just can't.

Haley finally lets it go. She nods in agreement, "We were always so scared that we might lose him because of it. His mom, Karen, had to beg him to stop playing basketball. It broke his heart you know. He was never the same after he found out that he couldn't play anymore. He really loved it. Basketball." A wistful smile flits across Haley's face, staying there for a fraction of second before the corner of mouths sadly twists downs as she bites her lower lips.

"He was good at it." Nathan acknowledges, the sincerity in his voice reverberates inside his chest and Nathan is surprised to realize that he actually believes in it and he wasn't just saying it for the sake of Haley. Lucas **_was_** a good player. He might lack a bit of technical skills but he definitely had heart when he played.

Hearts didn't win game, Dan used to tell him. It's true, Nathan thinks, but sometimes, it's all that matters in a game. Dan never saw it. Or he just refused to see it. Either way, Nathan thinks that Lucas did have plenty of heart. It showed in the way he'd always play the game as if it was his last. And now, Nathan thinks he knows why.

Haley sighs-smile. "Yeah. Got it from his dad." She pauses for a second before looking up at him, "Well, he said he did." The shrug on her shoulder suggests that she thought otherwise.

Nathan can feel the room suddenly starting to get small. He feels the sudden need to ask, to know more. "His dad. Do you know...I mean…what's the deal with his dad?" Nathan asks, wanting to hear, wanting to know what Lucas thought of Dan. Wanting to know Lucas's story told through Haley. It's his masochistic tendencies. Something he had gotten from Peyton. But he can't help himself.

"Lucas's dad's never really been there for him. He left when his mom was pregnant with him. I guess at first Lucas kind of resented, especially when he found out that there was another family, but then, I don't know, one day he just sort of accepted it and he was okay after that. He had Keith."

Nathan has stopped looking at Haley's eyes. He keeps his focus somewhere over her shoulders, at a wall covered with more pictures from Stanford. "They ever got to talk? Lucas and his dad."

"Once. I think. At least that I know of. His dad decided to show up one day and I guess he was trying to be a dad or whatever, a little too late if you ask me, but he told Lucas about his HCM, which is how Lucas found out. His dad wanted him to get tested."

Nathan could feel something inside his chest expanding. He hadn't felt this way about his father in a long time. But somehow knowing that his father had personally gone to Lucas to tell him about the HCM lifted the massive boulder-like weight sitting on top of Nathan's chest. His father was many things, but he wasn't deliberately cruel. He felt the explosion of relief, mingled with something aching to love, settle inside his heart.

"It meant the word Lucas," Haley was saying, "But after that Lucas never heard from him again. It sort of crushed him, you know, being rejected the second time. And God, I'm sorry, but his father was an ass."

"Yeah, sounds like."

"But Luke still loved him. I mean he's still his dad, you know, what are you gonna do?"

What else can you do? The question echoes inside Nathan's head. He's asked that question too so many times in his life and he'd never gotten any answer other than Dan was his father and that was that. The end.

"And then…his dad died." Haley said, still looking up at him, "I don't know how he found out. Keith most probably. I said I'd come with him and we could go to his funeral but Lucas said he didn't want to intrude, you know, with the family. I told him he's family too, but he said not anymore."

Was Lucas family? Nathan knew the answer to that. Yes. And no. When his dad died Deb went into some sort of internal break down, oh she did all the funeral arrangements, getting the flowers, picking the casket but she couldn't handle making all the important calls and Nathan had to sit by the phone dialling numbers of families, friends, teammates, acquaintances, business partners, and not once had he thought of trying to contact Lucas and Karen. Maybe it _was_ Keith. He remember his uncle Keith being there, although he didn't stay long and they didn't even get the chance to talk. Just the customary exchange of condolences and I'm sorry and call me if you need me and him stoically answering yeah, yeah, whatever.

If he _had_ thought of Lucas during those days would he have contacted his half-brother? Nathan is torn. He might have. He might have not. He might have thought that Lucas wouldn't _want_ to know. After all, if their roles were reversed he would not have cared about a father that had abandoned them.

Nathan imagines calling Lucas and asking him to come. He imagines Lucas and Haley entering their home at Tree Hill, hands clasped together, people turning their heads to watch the return of the first born son. Because if he was going to be honest about it, no one is going to ever call Lucas the Prodigal Son, that was him, that was Nathan. The son who always got into a fight with his father, who disobeyed his father's wishes, who disappointed his father.

"I'm sorry I…" It's an incredibly late apology but Nathan doesn't have anything else to offer her.

"Me too." Haley said, not looking at him. "Those were dark days." She closes her eyes for a few seconds and shakes her head, "I don't think there was anything anyone could have done to make Lucas go there anyway. He just didn't feel like he belonged there."

Not like Nathan had ever made Lucas feel welcome. He clenches his fist at this thought as he feels the wave of regret washing over him. With a defeated sigh, he reluctantly follows Haley's lead of trying not to dwell too much on the past, even though later tonight, alone in his room, Nathan is sure that he will be dwelling and drowning. He will let the full weight of remorse settle over him later. He will save it in the dark when he can no longer feel Haley's eyes on him.

He scans the bookshelf in an effort to distract himself and immediately sees a picture of Haley and Lucas and Damien West. Although Damien is barely on the picture. Basically it's Haley, Lucas and Damien's dark scowl folded in the middle. It's a prom picture. "So you and Damien?" Nathan asks, ignoring (and then denying) the sudden surge of jealousy coming up from the very pit of his stomach.

There's a long, loaded pause and then: "We were... engaged."

He was not ready for that. Nathan chokes. He coughs and almost comically thumps a fist on his chest before finally figuring out how to breathe in correctly. He thinks Haley is glaring at him but he refuses to look at her. He shakes his head. "Engaged." He says as though testing out a foreign word. Not even foreign. Alien. Something out of this plant. Something that should not link Haley and Damien.

"Senior year." Haley confirms through gritted teeth. "We were going to get married after graduation." She frowns as though remembering something. "Actually, the plan was to get married if they won state. Huh."

Nathan remembers state championship. He remembers the crestfallen look on West's face. The devastation had been so clearly drawn out on West's face Nathan remembers feeling briefly sorry for him. Very, very briefly. He feels Haley's eyes boring through the side of his face. "What?" He asks through his own gritted teeth.

"You're actually smiling." There's a barely perceptible note of amusement on Haley's voice.

Nathan shrugs, still keeping his eyes on the faded picture. "Can't help it if we won state that year."

"I guess I kind of owe you."

Nathan raises his eyebrows at this and finally looks down at Haley, meeting her brown eyes. "And why is that?" There's a sudden spark there.

"No championship, no wedding." Haley explained. The _duh_! expression on her face is almost a welcome change from the sad, downward curves of her features earlier.

Nathan could not agree more, although he didn't think it would be wise to voice it out. "So, ugh, what happened?"

Haley lets out an exasperated sigh. One that spoke volumes of how she felt about her misguided relationship with West. "I was young. I thought I was in love and well, Damien's... well, he's an ass. That's what happened."

"Let me guess, he tripped you while you're trying to go straight to the basket and then elbowed you while you were going down." And that actually happened. More than Nathan cared to remember.

Haley didn't smile. "Lucas caught him cheating with another girl. Two girls, actually."

Was Nathan surprised by this? Abso-fucking-lutely yes. He figured even Damien would not have screwed up whatever he got going with Haley. No one would be that stupid. Apparently, West was beyond idiotic. "Wow. What a stupid asshole." Nathan glances at Haley, "I mean, I'm sorry."

Haley waves her hand in the air. "We were in college. I was in Stanford, Damien was in Arizona. The long distance thing took its toll. It was over pretty quick." Haley scrunches up her face, looking like she'd just stepped on a bug. "Like almost four years. I was so stupid back then. Lucas knew that Damien wasn't good for me. Well, he was when we were in Oak Lake. I thought he'd really changed but he didn't, so yes, call me an idiot."

"You're not an idiot. Damien’s the idiot. And he didn't deserve you." Nathan's voice is clipped and matter-of-fact.

Haley nods in agreement. "Lucas said the same thing. Of course, he said it from the very start of my relationship with Damien, but I was too stubborn to listen."

Well, this time Nathan can say that he isn't surprised by this. "So Lucas didn't approve."

"God, no. He and Damien didn't get along. Damien was… well, he was your typical jock. You know?"

Nathan knows. He more than knows. He _was_ the typical jock that Damien was. He was the Damien West of Tree Hill. He can admit to this. With a cringe and sorrowfully too.

"I know this will sound crazy but when we started dating, he changed. It wasn't a total personality over haul but it got to a point where he and Lucas can actually spend an hour together inside the car without any bloodshed. We're talking about a small, cramped space here and that's saying a lot. When we decided to stay together even though we were going to different schools, I thought it would be hard but not impossible. We, I mean, _I_ struggled with the whole long distance relationship thing, 'cause obviously Damien was just having the time of his life. When Damien and I broke up, it was just horrible the first few days. Lucas was there all the time, through all the cookie dough binges. And then, one day I just felt kind of sorry for Damien and I was okay."

"I'm glad Lucas was there for you." Nathan can't help but visualize Haley surrounded with cookie dough looking absolutely cute and adorable. He thinks it's possible that he's falling in love with both the younger her and the Haley now.

"Oh yeah, me too, if Lucas hadn't been there, I would've totally re-arranged Damien's face."

Yes, he is definitely falling in love with the younger, feisty Haley James who would've re-arranged West's face. Nathan would be happy to do it for her now. Maybe he'll volunteer it later. He has to ask first: "So you and Damien looked kind of, okay now…"

Haley gives him a strange look, "I've forgiven him, but we're just friends now. I've learned my lessons. Guys like Damien, they're never going to change and I’m done trying to fix broken boys."

And just like that, whatever small hope, small bubble of happiness Nathan was feeling right now, it went pfffft. Gone.

_Guys like Damien. Guys like Nathan._

Haley is absolutely right. "Yeah," his voice sound strange, rough, filled with regret, "that's…that's true."


	15. Fifteen - Interlude

**_Fifteen- Interlude_ **

Their last year in Stanford was a blur of activities. So many things to do, so many projects to finish, so many letters sent and received. Envelopes of regrets from publishing houses piling up on his desk, he had stopped counting how many times he had been turned down. All the reasons were becoming familiar and they had, thankfully, stopped cutting him. Either he had grown a thicker skin over the past few months, or the phrase, "You are an incredibly talented writer but this is not what we are looking for right now", had lost its power to hurt him.

Maybe, he had gotten used to disappointments, had finally grown enough to realize that it wasn't always _personal_. Sometimes things were just beyond his control. And more importantly, if things weren't always good, it didn't mean that _he_ wasn't good.

He had learned to accept certain things. But not all. That would have been impossible. But the four years away from Oak Lake made him see things from a far, from this perspective. Well, distance plus time, equals relief. All the hurt seems so long ago, so trivial – well, ok not _trivial_ , but it was in the past. Its ability to hurt him had diminished over the years.

Lucas had come to realize that it didn't have the power to wound him anymore. Not like before, and hopefully, not ever.

And that was his one triumph that he would always treasure.

* * *

All the drama from his younger years – a son abandoned by his father, a younger half-brother who hated his guts, leaving the town he grew up in, nothing left behind, no looking back, completely cutting off ties with childhood friends and boyhood memories and then: a glorious high school, like a phoenix rising from the ashes – all of _that_ was the complete, total opposite of his years in Stanford

Stanford was simpler. _Normal._ It was the Lucas Scott and Haley James Show, with the occasional but very brief (thank God!) appearances of Damien West.

Stanford was four years of trying to figure out who he is, what he is here for. Basically all the 'why's' of his existence. After all, you can't be young and not ask these kinds of questions. In fact, you can't be human without succumbing to these melancholy musings.

The problem was, all of those 'musings', at least to Lucas, were all _so_ very… ordinary.

A cliché.

Lucas had an on-going love/hate relationship with clichés. On one hand, it was the truth, on the other; it was just a _tiring_ kind of truth. He was a writer (or at least he was trying to be one) and he was supposed to avoid clichés, and not be a walking definition of it.

So Lucas spent most of his time learning, experiencing and writing. Always writing. Every waking moment, pen in hand and words churning inside his head, hastily scribbled across blank pages, ink spreading, from one side of the paper all the way to the end: letters marching in a single line, off to some place.

There was no destination yet, just aimless ramblings that, on some days, made him feel invincible, like he has a glowing, burning _thing_ inside of him that was precious and would escape and fly free and touch people's heart, their souls. Some days though, it felt like he was nothing but a sham – this writing thing, this dream – it made him feel small and embarrassed and doubtful.

He was always caught in between these two emotions, like a little boat in a wide ocean of self-discovery, unanchored and swaying from one realization to another; tossed by the waves of confusion and winds of indecision.

His existence, so prosaic, so un-epic.

It was his greatest dilemma, really. Lucas _knew_ he had something to say, a story to tell, but what story?

And, without meaning to, he drifted about. And yes, he had to admit, he tended to be just a little bit detached, a little bit of an outsider, looking in on things. A certified Life Spectator.

It wasn't like he endeavored to be the shy, quiet guy. It was just how he was. Lucas thought of his college years in Basketball Terms. His Benched Years. He was still part of the game, he just didn't get the same amount of playing time like the rest of the Star Players. And he was fine with that.

Truth be told, he hated being the center of attention. It may have been due to the fact that he grew up with people giving him second, knowing looks. He often wondered about it, had in fact at one time asked him mom why people were always staring at him. And it was a different kind of stare. They didn't look at the other kids _that_ way.

It had made him feel so painfully self-conscious. It took him a few more years to figure out that he was the town's dirty, little (open) secret and he finally understood what the unwanted attention was for. Understanding it didn't mean that he got used to it. He grew up wanting the cover of shadows, the cape of invisibility.

It might sound sad and depressing to other people, especially those who didn't know him personally, but being an observer was never something that bothered him. Most people liked to assume things.

So he squinted his eyes, maybe more than necessary, and would often look far off into the horizon. So his brooding demeanor was always his default mode. But it didn't mean that he was gut wrenchingly lonely. Not always anyways.

He wasn't even anti-social. He has friends. Just a handful true, but their friendship was deeply rooted, their lives forever entwined. And yes, sometimes they go out and have crazy fun times. You'd just usually find him sitting back and watching the craziness unfold before, _maybe_ , joining in.

He was the kind of guy who'd remember everything the morning after. He drank, partied, attended concerts, done his time in the mosh pit (hurtling himself with gleeful abandon against total strangers), there were some singing in the rain and (that one time) walking around the hallways of Oak Lake, naked, with just a basketball covering him up (Damien's idea of a 'Welcome To The Team Sort of Hazing').

He does go out with friends to have a good time. Just not in the excessive, almost tragic kind of way. Everything in moderation. That was essentially how he had spent his years in Stanford.

He wasn't like Haley who just dives right in, not in gleeful abandon, of course, but with measured care. She has a list of "Pros" and "Cons" for everything. _Everything_. And she was always so full of insight, everything she had ever written were thoughtful, mature and tons helpful.

Maybe that was why he had never done anything really stupid while he was in Stanford, because he'd always check with Haley's Pros and Cons. Her lists were that convincing. She was probably the only careful carefree-spirit he knew, which made her Haley.

And so it really wasn't a surprise that after his graduation, he had lived a relatively quiet life in Los Angeles, renting a two bedroom apartment, the room he reserved for Haley whenever she visited him.

Los Angeles wasn't really his choice. It was Haley's idea. She had off handedly mentioned wanting to live in Los Angeles, because it was so easy to lose yourself there. So many opportunities to discover what you really want to do with your life. She could completely reinvent herself, it would be an adventure and then maybe, in the end she'd end up wanting to go back as just Haley James, nothing less and nothing more.

LA seemed like the perfect place for it. That was until her big break up with Damien West.

* * *

It was a couple of months before their graduation and unlike his colleagues, who were all excited and couldn't wait to finally graduate, he had been in turmoil about it. He'd been packing and unpacking and repacking again, caught between grips of indecision: some days, Lucas would like to stay here for another year, see how it goes.

A week ago, he was certain he wanted to go back home to Oak Lake, sit by the café window, and catch up with old friends. He could write from there, and see how it goes. Yesterday, he thought New York would be an adventure he'd like to take, alone, a first in his life, without his mom or Haley. That would be an experience worth writing about. And then Lucas was _also_ sure that next week, a trip to Europe will definitely sound too life changing of an opportunity to pass up. Go from London, Paris, hitch and hike to Spain. Stare at the space where the Berlin wall used to be. Ireland had always, strangely, called out to him.

His list of To Do's was endless, filled with scratched out items. He has so, so little time to do everything and to think of everything. The problem was, he wants to do it _all_ – the travelling, the writing, the living of his dreams – it felt like if he didn't do it now, he wouldn't be able to do it ever again.

"Don't rush, Luke." Haley said, glancing at the state of his half-packed, half-unpacked room. "Take a day off; go somewhere quiet and just…breath, ok?" She leaned over to give him a kiss on his forehead, smiling almost sadly, before going off someplace on her own too, probably to do the same thing.

Those days Lucas wasn't sure anymore what Haley was up to. She had suddenly become too quiet, sometimes even distant. Maybe it was normal. After all, graduating from college is a big thing.

Between the two of them though, Lucas was sure that Haley will do just fine. Haley had always been good with change and had embraced it with both enthusiasm and curiosity. She had always been more: "Oh, yeah, Change! Bring it on!" kind of person, whereas he was a professional Change Avoider.

There was something comforting about facing deadlines, following curriculums and schedules. Even rules. There was a structure to this kind of existence. It was reliable. And he had gotten used to the patterns of his life here in Stanford. Leaving all these behind would be…jarring.

Like suddenly turning the mirror around and it's your face you see, you're the central figure now. And you're face looks like one huge question mark.

What do _YOU_ want to do?

Well, the problem was, the answer to that question kept on changing. Lucas had wondered if maybe this was why Haley had been a little distant. Maybe she was also trying to get used to just being Haley. Because after this, they both know that they're bound to go off their separate ways. She was going to try and follow her dreams of becoming a musician, wherever that will lead her and he was about to do the same thing with his writing.

Immediately working for anything connected to the publishing industry seemed like a good way to start but what kind of experience will he have working on a 9-5 job? Wouldn't it be better to go on an epic road trip that is without reason and destination? Just follow the road, live one day at a time, one adventure leading to another. That seemed thrillingly scary.

Lucas had been thinking of his many options, and he hadn't really notice it before, but had become suddenly clear that all of his immediate future plans didn't include Haley. Her presence had somehow receded, had fallen back. Everything now was about what _he_ would like to do next. Where _he_ wanted to go. This split from Haley had started quietly but now he could sense it in everything that they were doing.

The only reason why Lucas wasn't panicking yet was because he knew that this was the right path to take. He wasn't scared of the time they'll be spending away from each other, or the many miles they will have between them. They will always be best friend. He was soul-sure of that. It just felt that their impending separation, like everything else, was happening too soon.

* * *

Haley's strange behavior suddenly become clear. One night, Haley had quietly confessed that while they were mapping out their future, Damien was still going to be stuck in Arizona. Maybe for another year, maybe take up a different major.

She had been trying to decide whether it would be best for their relationship if she put her dreams on hold for him and follow him to Arizona instead.

"It's not like I can't sing there, right?"

But when he had prodded, eventually, he found out the reason why: Damien wasn't going to graduate and he didn't plan on graduating anytime soon. Lucas suspected that Damien was delaying the inevitable. There were no NBA offers in the horizon and West had unfortunately, planned his whole life around the _notion_ that he will play for the NBA and now that option was gone…

Lucas had actually truly, felt bad for Damien. He knew the pain of losing basketball and it was never easy to let go of something that you have loved, believed in and dreamed of for the longest time. How quickly things could spiral out of control or get dark and confusing. Having experienced it, he thought he'd do Haley a favor and talk to Damien, in hopes that he'd at least listen to what Lucas had to say. Aside from Haley, he and Damien had a mutual love for the game and maybe that was all that Damien needed, someone who knew exactly what he was going through.

This was why he had reluctantly accepted Haley's request to come with her when she visited Damien for Christmas break, try to cheer him up.

Well, the little fucker didn't need any cheering up after all.

It had surprisingly started out well. He and Damien weren't exactly exchanging hugs, but there were a few jokes shared and some actual conversation that didn't veer towards Damien accusing Lucas of trying to steal Haley, or Lucas calling out Damien's assholey-ness. In fact, there was general peace and goodwill to all mankind vibe.

Until that fateful afternoon when Haley had gone out by herself to do her last minute Christmas shopping. This was about the only crazy thing she does, everything else was always well planned and scheduled in advanced. Except her holiday shopping. She always did the panicked rushing to the malls, wrestling away gifts from other shoppers every year. Lucas was sure that Haley secretly enjoyed this holiday chaos. With Haley gone, Lucas had decided to walk around town for a bit and return before dinner time. There wasn't any reason to hang out with Damien. And even if there were, despite the unspoken truce between them, Lucas wasn't planning on spending time with West any more than he was required, which was whenever Haley was around.

There were only two things that he could have done differently. He could've just stayed put and suffered a few hours of one-word, nod, and shrug exchange with West. Or he could have come back at a different time.

Well, he did neither.

His capacity for bad timing was well known and an accepted fact around their circle of friends. His timing sucked ass. Big time. And on the night where things were supposed to be jolly and bright, he accidentally walked in on Damien West with a girl. In the shower.

Of course, being Damien, that transgression was apparently not enough, because, hold on to your hats, aside from shower girl Carrie, he was also having some sort of side-fling going on with another girl named Rene, who he _also_ didn't warn about the presence of his _actual_ girlfriend visiting him for the weekend. As shower girl was hastily getting dressed, in comes Rene wearing a skimpy Santa outfit.

Unfuckingbelievable.

So of course, there was some exchange of words that quickly escalated to a long-time coming brawl. He got a cut right above his eyes and he busted Wests's nose. About the only good thing that happened that night.

Damien, being his typical jackass self, walked out with the girl, Carrie, the crazy bitch, leaving him with a bloody face and an upturned apartment. The blonde hooker Santa had bailed ages ago. Lucas remembered standing amidst the chaos, thinking: what was he going to tell Haley?

Well, the truth for one thing. Because Damien wasn't going to tell her that. And how did he know this? Because Damien had in fact told him that he will just deny everything and they'll just have to see who Haley will believe.

The stupid fucking idiot.

Lucas was only too happy that Haley had not been there to bear witness to all the chaos. He called Haley, grabbed her stuff and met her outside the mall where he promptly asked which bag she was carrying held her gift for Damien. She had looked at him open mouthed, the shock on her face was clear as she gazed at his bloodied face. When she wordlessly held it out for him, Lucas had taken it from her hand and viciously flung it to the trash.

He told everything on their way to the airport. That he didn't end up killing West was a miracle. He had wanted to tie up West, call the whole James cavalry and wait until they arrive, because they can and will start doing some major reckoning. He had never been an aggressive kind of person, and in fact the only thing he felt violently opposed to was fighting. But that night when he told her what had happened, when Haley had stood in front of him, looking as though he had just physically struck her, he knew he could be capable of doing something that might even make Taylor James proud. You have to know, cruelty was Taylor's expertise during that time. She had mellowed out after a couple of years, but if he had called up Tayor then, she might have castrated West and worn his balls around her neck. Gory but not totally impossible.

Before leaving Damien's wreck of an apartment he did find a super glue and well… let's just say Damien wasn't going to be too happy about his ridiculously priced designer shoes glued underneath his bed. Or his beloved Oak Lake jersey glued at the back of the toilet. Or his super expensive suit glued to the hanger. Or, well, you get the idea. It was childish and immature and Taylor would probably laugh at him, but it was the best that he could do under the situation.

* * *

Painful and humiliating.

What could be worse than those two feelings combined?

Lucas never uttered the words 'I told you so,' because he wasn't that kind of person who, while bandaging the wounds in one hand, would also be waving the flag of 'See I'm Right, I Win' in the other.

That was just being extremely, unnecessarily cruel. But maybe Haley felt it in the many weeks that they had spent sleeping on the same bed, just being silent and staring at the ceiling. In the silence, the unspoken 'I told you so' seemed to endlessly echo, bouncing off from one wall to another. He had tried to fill in the silence with words of comfort but Haley would only turn her back against him, face hidden beneath her pillow. So he kept quiet.

Grief have several stages, or so they say. Well, it's the same with silence. There's the silence of denial. Which lasted about 5 seconds, and happened when they were trying to get tickets back to California. That was a good sign at least. Then there's anger which he thought Haley handled pretty well. The only evidence of her anger had been the immediate removal of everything Damien West in her life.

There wasn't any bargaining, because Haley James may be hurt right now, but she's a damn smart girl. And so instead of bargaining, there was, oddly, guilt.

Lucas could sense guilt in her. It had that strange, bitter, heavy aroma. Haley had her dark days when she wouldn't get up, even to take a shower and Lucas figured, it could be that. But the smell was everywhere – even when he was outside their apartment. Until he realized that yes, it was the scent of guilt. Because he was feeling it too and the scent was coming off from _him_.

He could've done more, said more… he could have done something to have prevented this from happening. He couldn't understand why Haley would feel guilty. Damien had cheated on her. It had nothing to do with her. It was all on Damien. It didn't matter what she did. She could have been the world's hottest, most perfect girlfriend. She could have been an utter manipulative bitch of a girlfriend to Damien. In the end, it was West's decision to be a lying, two-faced, scumbag.

When he told Haley this, she gave him that blank-looking stare and suddenly choked out a small laugh. "Lucas, you dolt," she said, in what sounded like the old Haley that Lucas had been missing the past couple of weeks. " _You_ shouldn't feel guilty too. Because no matter what you have done or said, it was also _my_ decision to go out with Damien. So let's not both be guilty, ok?"

And slowly the pervading scent of guilt faded. Still, there were times when Lucas felt that Haley was holding on to her grief, to her heart ache a little too much, needlessly prolonging it instead of just letting go, moving on and completely forgetting about Damien.

Haley had said and assured him a thousand times, she needed to pick up the pieces of all her broken plans and her broken self on her own. Or else she'll never really learn and she'll just end up trusting and giving her heart away to the wrong person. "I guess, what I mean is, I have to remember the pain, Luke."

Lucas didn't really agree or understand. But all he could do was support her the best way he can. "Yeah, but don't treasure it, Hales. It isn't precious."

Haley was quiet for a few minute, before nodding her head. "I know."

She wanted tough love and Lucas reluctantly gave it to her, hence, this little bit of space between them. He hated Damien for being the reason for this distance. He missed his old best friend Haley but he knew that a better version of Haley would emerge from this and if missing her for a couple of weeks were what it took, then he'll endure.

And the silence of depression? Well, Lucas distinctly remembered the night they came back from Arizona, after Haley had fallen asleep crying. He had listened to that silence and for a brief moment, he had wished, madly, insanely, that he could just fall in love with Haley and then everything in his life will just somehow, magically, fall in to place.

It was perfect: they'd fall in love, graduate, go back to Oak Lake, get married, he'd write for the local newspaper, maybe even start that novel he had always dreamed about, she could be a high school teacher and they can have cute, little, perfect Stanford babies.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to do. They had already lived in a world all on their own and they knew each other like the back of their hands. He tried to imagine what it will be like to love Haley that way, but either he didn't try hard enough or it just wasn't meant to be. Falling in love just didn't work that way.

Love could be rational or logical – in the long run, it could even be learned. You just have to be patient about it. Love is a tame-able emotion. It will settle down, mellow out. Just wait when you get older. But falling-in-love, especially at their age? You can say good bye to rational and logical. This was the time for the sweetly vague, for the earth-shatteringly instantaneous.

Falling in love _is_ completely irrational. Without reason, so utterly illogical. You just feel it. Over time, you can maybe even understand it, but you can never, ever pin point one single reason for falling in love. It was just impossible. You could try and if you succeed, Lucas will be very interested in meeting you.

What he felt for Haley, Lucas had it all worked out. It was one of the few things that he actually understood. He loved Haley because she was his sister. Maybe not by blood, but by their million-shared memories, a lifetime of experiences, each one of them had taken roots inside of them. Roots that had bounded them to each other and had made them family.

Lucas's family had always been small and tightly-knitted. Maybe too small and too tightly-knitted. But who else was there? His mother was an only child and so there weren't any aunts or uncles from her side. There was his Uncle Keith who is essentially his father. He wasn't sure what his mom and Keith were waiting for, but they ought to have been married by now and he would have to do something about that soon.

That was it. That was his family.

Lucas knew he could accommodate more, in his hearts of heart, he knew he would love to include more, but that was not the case. At least not now. Maybe later.

After all, that hazy kid-wish, boyhood-dream of a large, happy family hadn't really left him. He had learned to accept and love and fiercely protect the family that he has. But yes, he would always wish for his real father and his half brother to be a part of his life. He would always hope for a reconciliation. Why fight it? It was too tiring. To deny that would be to deny who he is and who he had become. So, there it is. Despite everything that had happened in the past, he still wanted what he could not have. And he was fine with it.

It was both sad and silly, but that's the truth.

* * *

What good was a best friend if you didn't know the cure for a broken heart?

He tried everything: Cookie dough, Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Therapy, TV (lots of TV), alcohol (that didn't go well, Haley just ended up puking on herself, which she blamed on him), he even went as far as suggesting doing a burning a ritual.

Haley sniffling turned to look at him, giving him a blank stare. "A what?"

"You know, we wear our pajamas, go outside and burn everything that is about Damien."

"Are you crazy? There will be no burning outside, in our pajamas, unless you want to get arrested for, oh, I don't know, several things."

In the end, Lucas figured that the only cure is time, many a cup of good strong coffee, and just quietly sitting together, listening to music or reading books.

And one day, while they were quietly hanging out on their small living room, sunlight piercing through the curtains, sunbeams slicing against their floor, the faint of glow of spring, a hint of promise, of new beginnings, finally, the silence of acceptance.

* * *

A week before their graduation Haley told him that she wanted to go back to Oak Lake. She wanted to be home for a few months before she could decide on what new adventure she'd embark on. She didn't care about West. She wasn't going to hide out. Besides it would be better for everyone to get used to her just being _her_. No Lucas or Damien with her, none of her older brothers and sisters surrounding her in a protective wall. She missed home. She had wanted to escape from Oak Lake only to find out in the end that it had a stronger hold on her. And when she had asked him where he was going, he remembered everything Haley had told him about LA and grinning like an idiot, he answered, "City of Dream, Hales."

She clearly had not expected that from him. She was so thrilled for him. The way her eyes had grown huge, her small yelp of shock before she took his hand and practically started happily hopping like a little kid, it seemed to have made his decision all the more perfect.

"Oh Luke! I think LA will be perfect for you! I think it would surprise you so much!"

"You do? I mean it's so far from home –"

Haley shook her head, stopping him mid sentence. "Home is here." She answered tapping her heart. "And it gives me the perfect excuse to go to LA once in a while. I have a feeling LA will be where you'll have the most fun. Maybe even meet someone new." She smiled up at him. All drama from He Who Shall Now Be Named Asshole had put Haley's matchmaking mission on hold and they had not talked about Lindsey or Brooke Davis or any girl for that matter.

It had been a welcome relief for Lucas. He thought he would like to shift his focus from his non-existent love life to trying to figure out what his place was in this whole grand of scheme. He had been Lucas Scott, son, half brother, high school star basketball player, college student and now what? Would he be Lucas Scott, struggling writer next? Maybe a city wanderer first and then think of something different later.

So much possibilities he would like to further explore. And maybe if he stopped searching for love, it will finally come to him.

Lucas chuckled. "Yeah. Who knows, huh?"

"I am going to miss you so much buddy."

"Not as much as I'd miss you. Do you think this is the right –"

"You already know the answer to that. Go! Have fun and tell me all about it."

And tell Haley he would. Including the fact that yes, he did in fact met someone new: Peyton Sawyer.


	16. Sixteen

_**Sixteen** _

They are in a decent sized kitchen that had a small island. It looks like it is the most lived in space in the house. There's a lot of stuff: coffee mugs of all shapes and sizes, pots and pans, picture frames, a few potted plants and herbs, unopened mails, key chains and keys to doors that open and lock to where, Nathan didn't know – would probably never know.

Like the rest of the house, there's a stack of books and CDs – titles, authors and artists that Nathan had never even heard of before. But it isn't chaotic. It isn't useless, unused clutter. It has an inviting and welcoming feel to it. There aren't any flashy expensive decors, just little trinkets with stories and memories attached to it. Like an open invitation to get to know her better: _here are the things I love, the things I like, the things I live with_. 

Nathan's house isn't like this at all. Everything inside their house had been meticulously curated. Even the framed pictures were carefully chosen. Showcase pieces that tell nothing about their family – at least nothing beyond the realm of business, basketball and family vacations in all the tourist traps of the world.

Nathan gets greedy with taking everything in, he wants to note and remember how Haley seems to like the color yellow more. The sunny, orangey hues of her vases and plats and dishcloths. She has a knack for picking up, what his mother would call "kitschy" objects, warm and whimsical. This probably explains why Nathan is still here, occasionally glancing up as Haley silently works around the stove, preparing a large bowl of mac and cheese.

She'd let him look through a couple of photo albums and they lay open in front of him: her baby smiles, her toothy grins, her pigtails, her laughing mouth stained with chocolate, her nameless older sisters, older brothers, her and Lucas in goofy poses. He could easily spot them in group pictures: they are always squashed together, arms around each other.

He feels - whatever is the opposite of jealousy? Not content. Thankful? Close enough. Maybe. This tiny peek into the life his brother had lived. This other world which was filled with ear to ear grins, costume parties, blurry pictures at the beach, hanging out at the café, at the bleachers before and after the game.

A quiet calmness settles between them. It feels strangely fresh and familiar and Nathan barely even realizes that he had stopped nervously bouncing his knees and grinding his teeth.

It soothes him. Everything about this place, about her. It reminds him of all the best moments of his life: the first few hours of the morning biking through empty streets for his paper route when he was kid; an empty quiet court; the hushed silence of crowd soaking up an emotional win or loss; the sound the net makes when the basketball goes in perfectly; the stillness of the night when he forgets about the game and fleetingly lets himself dream and wish and hope for things that he could never have.

* * *

He watches her. He's been watching her the whole time, ever since seeing her inside Lucas's room. There is something about her that draws him in, takes hold of his whole attention.

Haley is not ungraceful but there's an endearing clumsiness in the way her elbow accidentally topples over a half empty water bottle, or when the fork she's using clatters into the sink as she drops it while trying to use her other hand to grab a small pepper grinder, or when she trips as she walked towards the pantry. She's quick to regain her balance, as though not even aware of how she almost took a face-dive tumble. She's used to it. It shows in how she never even made an embarrassed comment, just a muttered curse that sounded something between "shoot" or "shit".

Nathan finds himself grinning at this. He had felt his muscle tensing, getting ready to bolt from his chair and grab her should she fall. When she didn't, he's almost thankful, but he couldn't feel partially disappointed, too. He would have enjoyed even that small rescue.

Haley James is like a tiny bird flittering about. There's an energy about her, but one that isn't athletic.

Nathan knows how to use his muscles, every movement measured and deliberate; no move is wasted. With Haley, it is all _flow_ and _flowing_. Like water stumbling through pebbles and stones or like a movement briefly halted but never ultimately stops. There isn't a sport that he can compare it too, probably because of the imprecision of her movements.

Nathan catches himself, at the ridiculousness of his own thoughts and frowns. What in God's name is he talking about? Why is he so hung up with the way Haley is moving around the kitchen, of all places? It's the most mundane thing in the world and yet --- he is so utterly fascinated by it. 

Haley must have felt him watching her because she ducks her head for a second, shoulders hunching up, before slowly glancing at him. Their eyes meet and Nathan feels his heart violently thrashing about inside his chest as they held each other's stare. A second ticks inside his head, and then another and another – you have to understand, in basketball every second counts, even the length of time you're holding a ball, trying to figure out where to inbound, the referee is timing you - to count the seconds inside his head is all instinct.

It takes them five full seconds before they both look away, clearing their throats, muttering words without meaning, trying to fill in the throbbing silence.

The intensity of that few seconds feels like --- that strange electric charge in the air when it's about to rain. There has to be name for that. Someone really smart knows what that is, but definitely not him. Probably Haley.

_Did you feel that, too Haley? What is it called? This growing invisible thing between us? Does this have a name? Tell me, please. I want to know._

He is both desperate and wary to ask this question. All possible answers scares him shitless. He lets the moment pass (what else is he supposed to do?) and he returns his attention back to the photo albums. Safe. _Safer._ Until he discovers a whole album of black and white photos.

"Oh yeah. Freshman year in Oak Lake." Haley informs him, noticing the way he had stopped to scrutinize every picture. She carefully places the bowl of mac and cheese between them and Nathan dares a haphazard glance. Her eyes have dried up and she had washed the tear stains from her cheeks earlier. The melancholy note in her voice has not totally disappeared, but she didn't seem as sad and lost as she had been when he had found her by the basketball court.

It's a small, brief triumph but Nathan holds on to it. He reminds himself to keep everything simple and light. He didn't asks questions, didn't make comments, just waited for Haley to talk to him whenever she felt like it. She tells bits and pieces of her story. Well, _their_ story and Nathan eagerly laps it up, stamps it in his memory and files it for later when he wants to revisit this odd night of – _whatever this is_ – with Haley James and the ghost of his brother lingering in every photo that held his face.

So apparently, Lucas became briefly interested in photography. He took decent pictures, most of them Oak Lake buildings and landscapes. Without the splashes of green that dominated this city it could have easily been Tree Hill. Every city, every town would had to have the same pre-war brick building, the same park dotted with fountains and statues, the same old abandoned movie house. All high schools would have had the same rows of lockers, the same hallways with harsh lighting, the same basketball gym, empty bleachers. This could have easily been his world.

He does not dwell on that impossibility though. He had always been a realist, having a father like Dan Scott meant that there was no time to have his head inside the clouds, imagining lives he could never have lived. He always went by the steady, solid history of numbers and data: scores, stats, wins and losses. In a way, it helped him survive the suckfest moments of his life. A double edged sword. Like everything that Dan has ever taught him.

He turns another page from the album and discovers portraits. Faces of Lucas's friends, teammates, his mom, Uncle Keith. And Haley.

Haley's was a little blurred, off center. Like she had been too self-conscious to pose but at the very last second, had gather enough courage to look up straight into the camera. There was a boldness in her eyes that seem to jump out from the photo. The direct stare, meant to be challenge. A silent, "oh yeah?!" in the way she had arched her eyebrows.

Nathan is sorry that it isn't colored. Her brown eyes would have been startlingly bright and huge. He lets his finger trace the half smile, half smirk on her face and there's a tiny shiver at the base of his spine.

_You're so beautiful._

Nathan wants to tell her this, out loud, because this is the first time he'd used that word to describe a woman. Usually it is either hot or fuckable or banging or any other term that did not hold the seriousness and sincerity – the weight of that word – _beautiful._

"I ugh – Lucas insisted. I really didn't like getting my picture taken." Haley's voice is soft and shy and Nathan is appalled that she had caught him practically molesting her picture. He yanks his hand, runs it through his hair, embarrassed. He shakes his head, swallows hard before meeting her face.

Her eyes, up close, like this – Nathan changes his mind – no picture will ever do her justice. "No. It's great. You're beautiful."

There. He's said. He means it too. But dear God, he's gone officially infuckingsane. Has lost his ability to not blurt out all the embarrassing things inside his head. Haley James has unleashed the cornball inside of him and the rosy blush that spreads across Haley's cheeks as she presses her lips together is enough of a reward and Nathan wants to tell her again. He'll never stop telling her, if it would keep the blush on her face.

"Thanks. I – uhm… let me just get those –" Flustered, she makes a move to grab the photo album, their fingers grazing. Remember the shiver in his spine? It has now become a lightning storm, zapping all over his body, it feels like his entire skin is nothing but exposed nerve endings sensitive to every minuscule touch.

Nathan hears Haley draw in a deep breath. _It isn't just me, then._ He thinks this with immediate triumph. He has not been imagining this almost unbearable tension between them. He lets his finger nudge hers and then Nathan Scott, Tree Hill's Legendary Playboy, brazenly captures her ringed pinky between his index and middle finger and this… this is enough to send his heart into over drive.

He glances up at her and everything is slow and heavy and electrifying and is quickly shattered by the loud knocking on the door.

Haley jumps, looking as dazed and confused as he's feeling. Nathan offers to get the door. He needs to put some distance between them. He needs to collect his thoughts. Apparently Haley feels the same because she wordlessly nods her head and busies herself with clearing up the counter littered with pictures and photo albums.

Nathan is half relived, half – what, he couldn't really tell. But he takes in a deep breath and calms his stuttering heart. Not bothering to check into the peep hole, he swings the door open.

* * *

It's Peyton. She's casually leaning by the door, looking down at her scuffed shoes, black high cut Chuck Taylors. Nathan is almost certain this is the same pair of shoes she had thrown at him during one of their many fights. The slump in her shoulder makes her look smaller and Nathan automatically reaches out to touch her, in what he belatedly realizes, is a lame attempt to console her. He has his arms half raised when she sensed his presence and she instantly jerks away.

Her eyes widens when she realizes that it's him. She's clearly surprised to find him here and because frowning is her default expression every time she sees him, Nathan is not at all surprised as she narrowed her eyes, the corner of her mouth turning up in a miniature grimace.

 _I know the feeling, Peyt._ Nathan bites the inside of cheeks to keep himself from saying anything. He is suddenly reminded of how before anything else, he and Peyton would always look at each other with mild surprise before realizing that, _oh yes, I am dating / dated this person_.

"Hey, Nathan," her greeting is slow, the syllables of his name stretching out in a lazy-do-not-give-a-fuck drawl. "What are you doing here?" The confusion is now replaced with apprehension. An all too familiar tone coming from her.

Nathan winces. He could not help it. It is automatic. All the thousand pointless arguments he had with Peyton flashes inside his head and he immediately gets defensive and guilty. Angry at himself for feeling this way. Annoyed at Peyton for making him feel this way. "I was just...I..."

"How do you know Haley?" Now there's a note of distrust in Peyton's voice, her stance suddenly becoming wary. She crosses her arms against her chest, peeking behind his shoulder.

"You two know each other?" Haley is behind him and Nathan briefly closes his eyes. This is where everything will start to crumble down and turn into ashes. Peyton will tell Haley what a massive asshole he had been all those years ago and Haley would try not to believe her and be gracious about it but Peyton will only need to pick one detailed memory to convince Haley what an utter jerk he was. 

Peyton cuts her eyes from Haley and then back to him. "We dated in college. Briefly." This is said in a tone akin to a team owner heartlessly announcing the management's decision to let go of a player: no trades happening, no renegotiation of contract, just an Empty Your Locker, You're Done speech.

Nathan is briefly amused by this but it does not last long.

"What? Wait. Duke, right?" This is addressed to Peyton but they both made twin curt nods. "Small world." Haley comments, sounding pleasantly surprised. She has taken a step forward and is now standing next to him, her shoulders briefly brushing against his arm.

Nathan feels Peyton and Haley expectantly looking at him. He feels nauseous, finding himself unable to think of anything to say. 

"Well, come on in Peyton. I've just finished making my famous mac and cheese." The invitation is automatic and there's a sudden shift in Peyton's mood. Nathan realizes that this must have been a common occurrence: Peyton and Lucas coming over here to have dinner with Haley.

"Yeah. I didn't…" Peyton shakes her head, glances at him obviously still trying to figure out what was going on. "What are you doing here Nate?"

Nathan takes a deep breath. He does not know how to answer that but Haley saves him, as though aware of how he is refusing to open his mouth.

"Long story but he and Lucas used to play basketball during high school. He was at Karen's earlier and – why don't you come in and we'll tell you all about it."

Nathan squirms at this. He does not know why he feels guilty. He has not done anything wrong _exactly_. Except for not telling Haley who is, which is – yeah, an unmitigated disaster waiting to happen as soon as Haley finds out. Which he is hoping she won't. At least not until he has her convinced that he isn't the same jackass half-brother of years ago. That he isn't a better man, but he's getting there. Working on getting there. 

"I'm sorry Hales. I just – I can't." Peyton's shaking head catches Nathan's attention and he is surprised to realize that her blonde curls were gone. _Gone!_ Her hair is now straight. How had he not noticed that before? He gawks at her, suddenly feeling thrown off.

Peyton feels his eyes on her, recognizes the reason behind his disoriented stare. She rolls her eyes, a silent " _typical"_ expression crossing her face. "I was just going to get some of Lu-" She stops abruptly, her face losing all of its color as she chokes on Lucas's name, the intense greenness of her eyes pins him with a look that says it all.

Nathan instantly sees it. The way it sends her reeling. He watches grim faced as Peyton takes a step back, the glittering fury in her eyes is unmistakable. This look, he'd seen it all before. He feels trapped, like somehow, he's been caught trying to steal his brother's life. This secret he has kept all throughout the day suddenly surrounds him. It's like a physical presence pressing upon him from all side. Nathan's breath hitches as he feels his stomach painfully clenching with panic.

"I gotta..." He mumbles, his throat dry as sandpaper, voice scratchy, small and scared. Jesus God. He shoves his trembling hands deep into the pocket of his jeans, his knees almost buckling. He wants to escape. He needs to be out of Oak Hill and away from Lucas and the women of his life. How fucking odd, sharing the same attraction to the same girl. 

He wracks his brain, wonders if he had ever mentioned Lucas to Peyton. Probably. On one of his angry drunken binges. He's never named Lucas, of course, because he had always stumbled and choked at his brother's name. But there were far too many times during his college playing years when his father had nagged him about his game, offhandedly mentioning how his other brother at least wasn't fucking it up in the court. One less son to be ashamed about and Peyton had always been there when he had raged and cursed at his father and his bastard seed.

He feels a storm brewing inside of him at the memory. He relieves it all over again and the same fury courses through him. His father had egged him on, had taught him hate, had programmed it so deep inside of him that even as a grown assed man, it could still jump up at him. Why had he let Dan poison him? 

Haley briefly touches his arm, it lasts for not even a full second but Nathan unfurls his tightly clenched fist. He looks down at her, brown eyes warm and calm. There is no hate, there is no wariness, just her tentative smile. So open and trusting, unaware of how fucked up he is.

"It's okay," She tells him. "You don't have to leave. Peyton just needs a few of Luke's stuff back." She turns to Peyton to give her a sad knowing smile. "His jersey and sweatshirt?"

"And some of my CDs. I just – I'm sorry to barge in on-" Peyton blows out an angry huff of air.

Haley takes a step towards her, takes both of her hands. "No hey, look. It's okay." She repeats and Nathan watches as she squeezes Peyton's hand, her grip tight and just like that, Peyton calms down. "Just let me go and get them."

And Haley leaves them standing by the door, Peyton glaring at him, Nathan trying to bravely face her wrath.

"Why are you here, Nate?" She asks through tightly clenched teeth. Before Nathan could answer, Peyton stabs a finger against his chest. "You didn't tell her. She doesn't know." Not a question so Nathan does not bother to answer, which infuriates Peyton even more. "Jackass." This is said in a barely controlled hiss. Her anger is volatile but Peyton is still careful enough to try and not make a scene.

Nathan could only be thankful for that small blessing. He presses his lips together and looks away, dejectedly mumbling a flimsy, often used tactic of denying everything. This had always been their pattern of communication and Nathan regretfully slips back into it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Peyton's eyes flashes. "Liar. What do you want?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, brings up his empty hands between them, a gesture of hopeless surrender.

"Really? Tell me and this time, could you try to be honest, okay? Why did you come to the funeral? You played a couple of games with Lucas. Tell me that's it. That's all there is to it."

He can't answer her.

"He's your brother." Peyton's voice is so low, barely a whisper, Nathan is almost certain that she had not spoken, but the expectant glare she sends him is an obvious demand for an answer.

"Half." He corrects her, almost immediately, born from years of correcting people. He can't escape his past and he obviously reverts back into being his old self, full of lies and excuses. What could he ever offer Haley by staying here and taking from her – her memories of Lucas, her friendship, the warmth and comfort and calmness that she's offering – what could he give back in return?

Nothing.

Nathan makes the decision. "I gotta go." He mumbles, taking a huge side step, avoiding Peyton at all cost and finding himself out of the door and into the empty hallway, with Peyton moving to take the position he had just vacated. She stands there, by Haley's door, arms crossed.

"Nathan," The reprimanding tone in her voice is familiar and Nathan winces.

"I'm sorry I came, okay? I just wanted to see, I mean..." He takes a deep breath, looking away, hating himself for wanting to know, but needing the answer. "Did Lucas - did he ever, when you were together, did he mention anything about me?"

"What do you think?" The answer is an answer but not the answer he's hoping for.

Did that make sense? Nathan frowns and numbly nods his head, unable to press further. "Right. Of course."

"Just go, Nathan. Haley does not need this."

Nathan lets out a snort, his tongue moving around his mouth, finding the sharpest teeth and he bites down, hard. He feels inadequate and scorned and he wants to tell Peyton it isn't her decision to make, but she's right. Nathan digs deep into himself, finds the seventeen year old boy who didn't care and therefore didn't get hurt. At least not in the way he's hurting now. He gives Peyton the coldest look he could muster and shots his parting words: "Yeah. Whatever."

* * *

All these driving back and forth. Back and forth. He doesn't know where he's going. No, that's not entirely true. He's going home, because where else could he go? Back to Tree Hill. Back to normal. Back where he doesn't need to be so overly regretful that he's Nathan Scott.

He's hungry and he briefly thinks of Haley's famous mac and cheese and how he never even got to try it. How he never got to say goodbye to her. He tries not to imagine the confused look she'll get when Peyton tells her that he had left. Peyton better fucking stay there and have dinner with her because Nathan will feel a thousand times worst if Haley would have to eat all of those mac and cheese by herself.

And you can now add all of those to the list of tragedies in his life.

On impulse, Nathan swings by Tree Hill's largest and most exclusive cemetery. It's Dan Scott, only the best for his father even in death. But he doesn't visit his father's grave. He can't, not even if he had wanted too. In a gated cemetery you could expect that there will be visiting hours.

So he sits inside his car, drops his head to where his arms lay resting by the steering wheel and wonders, of all things, when Dan had visited his first born to warn him about his genetic gift: HCM.

_Sorry couldn't be a father to you Lucas, but here's proof that we share the same blood and curse._

So his dad had reached out to his brother. So what? What did it matter anymore? It made Dan less of a bad guy. Sort of. At least he made that effort. He didn't have to but he did. What other secrets did Dan kept from them? It's like being betrayed but he can't go raging into his father's office, to snipe and gripe. Nathan is tired of feeling vulnerable but he thinks, what the heck, he gets to be sad and miserable today. He has every fucking right to.

And he is. He is sad and miserable because he never really knew his father. He knew Dan Scott the basketball coach, the basketball fan, the man who had given him the gift and curse – not HCM – but basketball. The man who had pushed him to dream big, to work for that dream, to value hard work, blood, sweat and tears. That losing isn't losing not if you have learned something from it. That winning isn't winning, unless you held the highest point or if it was your winning shot that had won the game. That life can only surprise you if you let yourself be caught unawares, if you didn't prepare for it, train for it.

Not applicable, Dad. Not to this life, anyway.

Life _**has** _caught him by surprise and he isn't even in the least bit ready. He'd stumble through Lucas's funeral and now he wishes for all sorts of things to be different. He wishes he got to know Lucas. He wishes he had not given his everything for basketball, there were so many things outside of that game that he had given up and he should not have. His relationship with his parents, his friends, even Peyton. 

If he had taken the time to talk to Lucas, to be kind to him, how different would his life have been? Would that have been possible? For one person to re-arrange the course of his destiny? If a guy like that found someone like Haley, he must be one helluva guy and not having known him seemed more a bigger loss. Nathan could've learned from Lucas – who seemed to be the very opposite of himself, of their father.

Nathan remembers being curious about Lucas but never actually wanting to meet him. For a long time, Lucas Scott was just a name. A phantom. A mistake from the past and then he discovered the box of pictures his father kept inside his vault at his office - why was it there? Was it that precious to him? Was he ashamed to have kept mementos from a son he had denied and abandoned? - and finally, there's a face to that name.

Every day, ever since he remembered finding out about the existence of his half-brother, Lucas had been some sort of shadow. Some sort of invisible yardstick he had to compare himself with. He had to be better than him or who knows, Dan might just regret choosing him and his mom. That's a shitty burden to carry. He didn't have to. He shouldn't have had to.

He blames his father for that. He blames his mother for that too. But most of all, he blames himself. Because – there's only so much that he could blame his parents and his circumstances on. At the end of the day, when he'd gotten old enough to understand the complexities of family and brotherhood, he should have made the decision himself to break free from his father.

But's he'd been too scared, too stubborn, too filled with pride.

Nathan lets out a watery sigh. He unclenches his teeth, his jaws, the hand gripping the steering wheel. He releases the weight on his shoulder, flings away the anger that had taken root inside his chest. He lets go. Everything that tied him to his father that reminded him of pain and disappointment and regret.

And finally, _**finally** _as he breathes in the night air, Nathan lets himself cry.

He cries and he feels relieved. And lighter. Like how he feels when he's about to take off and dunk a ball. Like he can fly. And he does. And he feels free.


	17. Seventeen

**_Seventeen_ **

He’d never had a good cry before. Probably because men aren’t supposed to have good cries. He’d never seen his father cry, ever. Problems were dealt with clenched teeth, a hardened face, sharp eyes and even sharper words. A quivering jaw was the extent of emotion Scott men are supposed to show when things get too much. Some wall punching, or kicking stuff – just don’t break bones. Too risky especially if you’re whole life depended on your ability to flex your wrist, run full courts in less than fifteen seconds.

Be angry but don’t be stupid about it and injure yourself.

He knows where he got that little nugget of wisdom. But where did Dan learn it from? His grandfather. And his grandfather from his own father and so on and so forth. A long line of Scott men who were supposed fight off grief and pain and heartache with quiet, teeth-clenched anger.

Nathan rubs his face, quietly sniffing. He isn’t ashamed to have broken that cycle. Scott men – well, not all, _most_ Scott men, probably – prided themselves for all the wrong reasons and while maybe, years ago, that had been the only way to deal with adversities, with failures, with broken hearts, it was crippling. A burden too unnecessary and heavy to carry.

Much like guilt and regret. 

And anyway, now that he had actually done it – fully surrendered himself to grief and pain – he does not feel any less of a man. If anything, he feels strangely renewed. Like having a hard run in the rain, everything washed away clean, his chest about to burst but in a good way.

His head clear, his heart lighter than it had been in years, Nathan knows exactly what he wants – no **_needs_** – to do. He’s done with mourning, of not living his life. He has to grow up. Maybe he already has, starting with that cry.

Nathan thinks, yes, this is a rebirth. _His_ rebirth.

But first, he needs to eat something. Can’t be making life changing missions on an empty stomach.

* * *

It isn’t a long drive and he finds them back at the café. Exactly where they’d been seating just this morning. It feels like a whole lifetime had passed in between but there they are and there is nothing more comforting at how predictable and reliable his friends are. They had always been the one steady thing in his life. Nathan couldn’t help but chuckle at the side eye glances Tim and Jake were exchanging as he saunters over to them.

“What have you been doing Nate?” Tim asks, eyeing him. “You look like ass, man.”

“Smells like one too.” Jake quips, pushing a plate of fries his way. Nathan grabs a handful, stuffs his face while signaling to the waitress for another order.

“Starved. Let me eat first, okay.” He tells them when he’s finally finished chewing.

“Oh c’mmon. You can’t just swagger your way here and not tell us what happened in Oak Lake. Gimme the lowdown and don’t be stingy with the deets.”

Jake makes a face and glares at Tim. “Who the hell talks like that?!”

“Your man, Tim The Smith, yo.” Tim answers, nodding his head looking extra pleased with himself. He makes weird hand signs, fingers twisting in what Nathan is supposed to mean something cool or whatever.

Jake slaps Tim’s hand away. “You’ve been watching too much gossip shows, sounds like.”

Tim shrugs. “I like gossip, not gonna lie.”

Jake and Nathan shares a look before bursting into unmanly laughter.

“You guys are sexist shits. I’m disgusted by your behavior.”

Jake and Tim starts arguing about the misconception of gossip and women and how, in fact, it’s the men who are into talking shit about everyone’s lives. Nathan ignores them as his food arrives. He mumbles a quick thanks at the waitress before taking a deep breath. He hadn’t realize how hungry he was until he smelled the food. What was the least meal he’d had? The breakfast from earlier? His stomach growls in confirmation and he practically inhales his burger, taking huge bites.

“Dude, slow down.” Jake idly comments in a tone that only a father of a ravenous daughter could. How many times have Nathan heard Jake tell Jenny this same thing as she tries to eat a piece of cake or two scoops of ice cream, all in one bite.

Tim elbows Jakes as he leans forward, arching his eyebrows. “Worked up an appetite over at Oak Lake, huh?”

Nathan gives him a warning glare.

“What? You keep coming back there, Nate. Can’t be healthy.”

Tim didn’t mean this in the skipping of meals way and Nathan understands where the worry is coming from. It’s not like he has all the answers on why he could not just let this day go. This hasn’t been just any normal day. Too much have happened, he could not be faulted for acting strangely. He gives a wordless shrug.

“Cause of the girl?” Jakes bravely asks and Nathan almost chokes on the soda he was chugging down.

Tim looks genuinely confused. “Girl, what girl? You mean Peyton?”

“No, not her. Girl in yellow dress, big brown eyes, about this tall.” Jakes holds up his hand, making it look like Haley is about as tall as Jenny and Nathan rolls his eyes at this.

“Bambi?”

“Her name’s Haley.” Nathan grits out, even though he’s sure that the nickname isn’t meant to be demeaning. After all, it is true. The memory of her warm eyes, liquid brown, is enough to start the itch to get going, the call to go back to Oak Lake, an invisible thread pulling him towards her.

“Hey, relax Nate. I was just kidding.” Tim tilts his head in silent consideration, twisting his mouth. “She does not seem to your type, though.”

Jake violently flicks Tim’s ear. “Dude, shut up.”

Nathan feels slightly annoyed but he couldn’t really fault his friends who had seen him hook up with countless women. “No it’s alright Jake.” He leans forward, gives Tim a challenging look, one he knows Tim is all too familiar with. “And what is my type?”

“Just not the good girls. You want to see a poster for Good Girls? There’s Haley’s face.”

Jake shakes his head. “And how would you know?”

“Because I’ve met her too, remember? She gives off that --- _vibe_ , you know. Sweet. Naïve. Innocent. Those eyes.” Tim says this a little too dreamily for Nathan’s liking, but again, not like he can deny it.

Haley James’s face, open and warm, tear stained though it may have been, it’s exactly how Tim described it. He feels his heart skipping a beat, just thinking about her. Nathan rolls his tongue inside his mouth, scrapes it against his teeth and tastes the bitter tinge of denial – of a lie – before spitting it out, hoping to end the conversation. “Not into her.”

But if there is anyone who has the balls to demand the truth from Nathan without flinching, it has always been Tim. His oldest friend, who knows exactly what to say and how to say it. “So, you won’t mind if I --” Tim licks his lips.

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” He didn’t mean for it to sound too menacing but maybe it did lack the required threatening tone, because Tim only grins at him, shrugging.

“Why? I happen to _like_ good girls.” Suggestive wriggling of the eyebrows. 

“Tim, seriously. Quit it.” This time, Nathan adds a brief kick underneath the table.

Jake yowls in pain. “Fuck it Nate, that’s _my_ leg. Jesus.” Bending down to rub the sore spot, Jake gives Tim a tiny snarl. “He’s into her, ok Tim. You got him, now let it go before the under the table kicking escalates to a full blown food fight. You’re both immature jackasses.”

Nathan doesn’t even bothered to make another attempt at denying something that is, apparently, already too obvious. Tim, on the other hand, isn’t done yet. “You said it yourself, Nate. You said you have no time for the good girls. You didn’t want to know them and you definitely don’t want to date them.” Tim turns to a still-grumbling Jake. “What was the name of the girl we were trying to set up Nathan with after his last, final _final_ break up with Peyton?”

Jake wordlessly shrugs his shoulder, feigning disinterest, but his eyes were bright and alert. He clearly does not want to get in the middle of this but Nathan knew who Tim meant, “Millicent Huxtable.” He couldn’t help wincing as he suddenly recalled how _that_ went.

“You --- you remember!” Tim sputters out, sounding both surprised and impressed. He quickly shakes it off, “You should. You stood her up.” He adds, giving Nathan a rare scolding. “Jerk move, by the way.”

Tim has given Nathan more credit than he deserves, always had his back and had never been one of the ma ny sycophants that used to surround him during his basketball heyday. Nathan is not one to shy away from a telling off, especially if it’s from Tim. He almost always deserves it anyway.

Nathan leans back against his seat, raising his hands, “Whoa. I didn’t stood her up. I just had to cut the date short because – well, because it was so obvious that it wasn’t going to work out and it was way too awkward for the both of us. I did both of us a favor.” A memory of Millicent painfully grimacing when they couldn’t find anything to talk about flashes inside his mind.

“So, you also remember what you said when we asked why?”

Nathan shakes his head. He did not remember his reason. He has, over the years of being a certified selfish jackass, accumulated a collection of half assed explanations to his actions. All of which he could deftly pull out – like a magician and his rabbit out of a magic hat. It takes a certain skill to still be charming while dishing out lame excuses.

Tim raises his eyebrows, pauses for a whole second for the full effect. “You said good girls are too much of an effort.”

Ah. Not really an excuse. More of an admission. “And it’s still true.” Nathan turns to Jake, trying to prove a point. “Jenny’s a good girl. You want a guy who’d give his best. Exert effort. Real work in making their relationship work, right?”

Jakes throws a crumpled tissue at him, glowering. “My daughter’s not even in High School man, shut the fuck up. She’s not dating until she turns thirty-five-ish.”

“Yo, dude, that ain’t right.” Tim briefly forgets about Nathan, as he gives Jake a light shove, trying to make him take back what he’d just said. “Don’t be like one of those hypocrite parents. You gotta be the cool dad.”

Jake swipes at Tim’s hand, hissing at him. “Stop it. You wait until you have your own daughter and then you can decide when you’ll let her date. There will be no disgusting boys around my daughter until I am old and blind.”

“But you’d demand that from anyone who’d want to date your daughter.” Nathan pushes on, not wanting this conversation slip into another mindless exchange of quips and jokes. He has to make an important point here.

“Yeah, we get what you mean.” Tim is rolling his eyes at him, shaking his head and making stupid faces. He stretches out his arm across the table, hands clasped together. “You’re saying, this girl – Haley – you’re willing to do the work? Effort and all that jazz?” At the word, _jazz_ he unclasps his hands, wiggling his fingers infront of Nathan’s face.

“Been watching ‘Bring it On Again’, Tim?” Jake asks, slapping away Tim’s jazz fingers.

Nathan ignores them. He hears Tim’s question, really hears it and the answer is an immediate **_yes!_** But Nathan keeps his mouth closed. He knows it, feels it. That this time, it’s different. That even now, he’s already laying out his next plan as soon he leaves this café and yes, he wants to drive back to Oak Lake and pound on Haley’s door, beg her to take him back in because – because he has to tell her. The truth about Lucas.

_He connects us. This invisible string tugging me to you. You feel it too, don’t you? It’s him. It’s Lucas._

There’s an audible woosh of breath from both Tim and Jake and Nathan realizes that he didn’t have to say anything. They already knew his answer. It’s all over his face. It’s in the way he hadn’t brushed the question aside with vague excuses, with self-depreciating jokes about him not being good enough for Haley. The denial of _we barely know each other._ The logical, _it’s too soon_. Even _shut up, you guys are crazy_ – though often used – would have allowed Jake and Tim to go back home with the assurance that Nathan isn’t going to do something stupid but yes – the way he shoves his hand into his hair, pulling strands up in disarray is a sure sign that stupid is about to happen and there’s nothing that they can say or do that will dissuade him.

They all silently decided not to acknowledge this, as they drank from their glasses, taking this tentative mental step towards a world where Nathan Scott finally wants the good girl. Wanting of course, is never the same as getting. So who knows where this would lead? If it would lead to anything.

Triple sound of glasses hitting the wooden table as they set their drinks down.

Tim wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks, flippant as ever: “You guys ever been in love?”

“God, I need vodka for this kind of conversations.” Jake eyes his emptied soda with palpable regret.

“Never been in love. That’s for losers.” The last part, Tim adds, sounds more like an afterthought. A way to get a reaction from them but Nathan isn’t biting and Jake is still trying to turn the pitcher of water in their table into something alcoholic just by intensely staring at it.

“What, you two too embarrassed to admit how often you’ve been W-H-I-P-P-E-D” Tim makes whipping gestures, taunting them.

“Yeah? What about the girl from this very café?” Jake sneers at Tim, abandoning his efforts of changing water into vodka. Nathan can almost sympathize. They don’t serve alcohol in the café and no one is about to suggest going to a bar now. Well, not yet, at least.

Tim stops moving almost immediately, his face turning a deep shade of red. “That’s different.” There’s that familiar whining tone in his voice, when he’s realizes he’s pushed too hard and tables are about to be turned.

“How is that different?” Jake is now relentless and Nathan thinks he’ll be placed in the hot seat soon and what’s he going to say? Yes? No? Never? Not yet? How does one even _know_?

“I love her but not her _her_. I mean, I didn’t even, like know her. I just love the way she sashayed into the room, even though she’s wearing an apron and holding a dirty rag. I love her dimples. The way she won’t let me ask her out.”

“Shot you down, didn’t she.” Jakes snickers at this.

“Barely even got to ask her dude. Like, I can’t even – look, it’s stalkery but I never actually talked to her.” An embarrassed, almost tender confession.

“That’s pathetic, Tim.” Jakes is now guffawing, clearly enjoying seeing Tim squirm. That Nathan has yet to say anything seems to be pushing Tim and Jake to do all the talking. It is as if – but, no… could it be possible? That his friends are trying to distract him? Make him stay and forget about going back to Oak Lake? Back to Haley James and the ghost of his brother waiting for him there. It’s almost touching, this roundabout way of trying to protect him from – well, no one really, but himself and his tendency to be impulsive and reckless.

A bad habit he can’t just outgrow.

“You love Nikki?” Nathan blurts out, really wanting to know the answer.

Jake seems taken aback, but he’s dealt with him being both drunk and belligerent and this was nothing. “Love. _Loved_.” Jake corrects himself. “Before, yeah. Sure. I guess.”

“She’s the mother of your child. _Sure I guess_ , is a horrible answer.” Tim jumps in, bug eyed.

“And might I add totally crazy. Bitch tried to take Jenny away from me.” There's a tired slump in Jake's shoulder at the mere memory of what he'd gone through but he quickly shook it off, like shedding the past and Nathan envies Jake for how easily he seemed to do this. 

“Oh. Yeah. Well, there’s that. Deal breaker, huh?” Tim sneers, just a little bit, clearly remembering that Jake had been crazy in love with Nikki. Not that it lasted longer than a couple of months. Fourteen months, to be exact. 

Jake doesn’t bother answering and nothing is said after that. They all know the hell Jake went through during those months when Nikki suddenly went all out crazy on _Motherhood_. They all knew she wasn’t good for Jenny but she was still the mother and no matter how much Jake had sacrificed for Jenny, it would not matter, not when you have someone as manipulative as Nikki who could turn on the water works in two seconds flat. Nothing is fair in this life. They all learned that lesson early enough. The only reason why Nikki had eventually backed down was because, surprisingly enough, Dan Scott had used his money and influence. To what extent, Nathan didn’t know. Jake just told him to thank Dan for him and that was it.

Nathan hadn’t bothered to ask his father. He thought it was just one of Dan’s many schemes to make him look like the good guy, to gain back – whatever it was that Dan sought for: affection? Trust? Gratitude? Maybe it was something he could hold over Nathan’s head when he wants to demand something from him. Another one of Dan Scott’s many mysterious, unexplainable acts. His father was a walking puzzle never meant to be solved.

“How about you Nate?” Tim, of course.

He takes a deep breath. The hard assed, regrettable truth? “Never.”

“Never?” Jake clearly does not believe him.

“Never.” Nathan’s answer is firm, unshakeable.

“Bullshit, Nathan.”

“Never.” It’s a tragedy, Nathan knows – understands – it now, but he isn’t going to pretend to know what love is. He loves basketball. He loves the game, what it had given him. He loves Tree Hill, it’s his home, how could he not? He loves his friends. He loves his mom and his dad, despite and in spite of their complicatedly fucked up relationship. But he had never been _in love_. To say yes now would be a lie and he’s done with that. _No more lies_.

Nathan knows what attraction feels like, he knows lust, he might even know obsession to a certain degree, but not the unrequited yet hopeful romantic love of Tim or Jake’s intense, no matter how brief, love that resulted in a daughter. So, yeah. _Never_. 

“Bullshit.” Jake glares at him. “Bull-fucking-shit.”

“Hey, so he hasn’t been in love. Lay off man.” Tim ever the peacemaker. He’s beginning to regret asking the question. Nathan can see it in the way Tim is nervously tapping his fingers against the table.

Jake shakes his head. “There's got to be one. All those women, not one. You're going to be like Tim who just let every girl be the one that walked away from him. Forever."

"Hey,” Tim protests with a pout, “you make it sound so depressing."

Nathan is still silent, still struggling with his own answer.

"So what’s this thing with Haley then?” Jake has never been one to back down, always forcing people into telling their truths whether they want to or not because this was something he also learned from Crazy Nikki. He’ll press and press, until the truth is squished out from you. Life is too short for all the pretentious shit we try to hide from. Words of wisdom from Jake Jagielski, from a man too young to have been abandoned with a child when he had barely an adult. They all have their wounds and their own walls put up to protect what was once (still?) damaged.

Nathan was once wired this way too. He demanded and pushed and pushed until someone snapped. His aggression, dangerously pent up, deflated like a balloon, pricked by his father’s death because then, where was all that anger supposed to go? The dead can no longer push back. He understands where Jake is coming from, what Jake is trying to say without having to outright say it. What Jake wants him to admit to himself first, before anything else – before this _thing_ with Haley spirals out of control, becomes something Nathan can no longer escape.

Because this isn’t just about him, anymore. He’s already touched Haley’s life now. A world is about to open up and he has to be sure if he wants to be a part of that.

Nathan licks his lip. “I don’t know. How am I supposed to know? I just – I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s taken roots.”

Tim makes a face. “Roots, as in, trees and plants roots? I don’t get it.”

“Tell her.” Not even an advice from Jake. A straight up demand. A silent and if you won’t, then don’t bother, don’t come back. Let this night be the last night. If you can stand it to end that way. End it now.

Nathan presses his palm against the table, slides it so he can grip the edges, knuckles turning white. "Tell her what exactly? Help me out here. Which one should I tell first? That I’m her best friend’s half-brother who stole the life he could have had at Tree Hill?”

There. He’s said it. He has admitted it – this lie, this excuse, this inescapable truth – one of that, or all of that, whatever. It’s what he feels. It’s what he fears. That somehow, someway he had a hand in his brother’s life. This path that lead to this day. He has to have some part in it, right? Impossible that he’s just an innocent bystander in all of this. That this was the life Lucas had meant to live, because _what if ---_ what fucking if ----

“You didn’t steal anyone’s life Nate.” There is something terrifyingly calm in the way Jake tells him this. The absolute surety of it feels like a punch in his chest. reproach

Nathan’s grip slackens and he lets his hand fall gracelessly, like dead weight, fist in his thighs. He shakes his head, still unable to accept what his friend was so kindly offering him. Could it be that it easy? _Should it be_ that easy? No. It can’t be. It’s a trick. Nothing is ever given freely. If he takes it, it will come with consequences.

He shakes his head. Vehement. “So what else could I tell her? You want soul baring, heart shredding stuff? How about, I wish to God Dan didn’t abandon Lucas and his mom, who knows, maybe he'd still be alive then. They’d still have him. She wouldn’t be so… so heartbroken.”

Jake scoffs. “And what? You and Lucas could’ve become brothers? And somewhere along the line, somehow she and Lucas meets and they become friends and then you could’ve ended dating her, marrying her? Having kids with her?”

“That’s crazy talk, Jake.” It’s a mumbled reproach from Tim who has suddenly lost all his jokes.

“Don’t I know it? But since Nathan started it, why can’t I weave my own fantasy here?” Jake gives him a challenging look. Gloves are about to come off. A boxing expression. Nathan inanely wonders for a second if there’s a basketball counterpart to that. A bench clearing? The bench is about to be cleared off. Yeah. Could work.

“Nathan!” It’s Jake’s turn to give him a light kick, which he quickly evades – instincts – and Nathan snaps at him. “Shut up, Jake. You don’t know shit.”

“Oh, really? Cause it’s just your dreams that got washed away, Scott and you deserve all these fucked up things happening to you? You got something to prove here? You wanna be some imagined martyr to make you feel better? Is that it? Because, Nathan, you’re not the only one having a fucking crummy life but you're obviously the only one who actually wants to live that way.”

And this is no longer about Haley James. No this is about the way he had been living his life even before he met Haley, before Lucas died. It all comes down to how everything in his life had been tied to basketball and his father and when he lost both, it felt like he had lost half of himself. And this Nathan Scott that didn’t play, that didn’t have Dan breathing down his back, pushing him, proudly pounding his back, daring him to be even better – this Nathan Scott felt like a stranger to him.

He’d been nothing but a walking shell, without direction and dream, without hope, without _anything_. Because what else was there?

Everything else. That’s what. Everything else that he could still be. And it had frightened him because he had known greatness, potential fulfilled. And outside the court, without the game he loved – _still loves_ – could he ever be great again? Could he ever offer something other than winning big games, breaking scoring records?

_Yes. Yes. Yes._

But first, he must believe it. Believing it is the hardest part. 

Nathan abruptly stands up, shoving his hands into his hair and then into his pocket where he clutched a couple of bills, tossing it on the table, not caring whether it was enough or too much or too little. “I gotta get outta here.” He tells Jake and Tim, not meeting their eyes. Not wanting to see anything in their eyes that would show pity or understanding. “Look, I’m sorry and I appreciate all of this – I know what – I know, so thanks.” He gives them an apologetic shrug for the inadequateness of his words. They’d know what he means. He turns and has taken a two steps away from the table when he hears Jake call out.

“You can’t exchange lives with the dead, Nate.”

He stops, lets his head hang for a few seconds, before turning to look at Jake. “Who says I want to?”

“Then stop acting like it.”

Nathan feels his teeth sink into his teeth and nods his head and walks away. He knows that. God, he knows that. He sends Lucas a silent apology because he didn't want to live Lucas's life. It has never been about that. What he wanted now was to have been part of his brother's life. Not to know it in pictures and pieces and remembered anecdotes. But this is was he has to live with it and he's ok with that.

Because it's true what everyone says about grief and moving on: the first real step is acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Uhm. Not too happy about this chapter. It feels muddled up because... I don't know it's a filler chapter of sorts so. I was thinking of doing it in Jake or Tim's POV but in the end decided with keeping up with the format since I am like five or six chapters away from ending this whole thing. Yes. The end is near. Finally. Anyway, so... please let me know what you think. Comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. I might actually come back and do some more editing with this one. I don't know. I will make a note of it on the next chapter if changes were made. :) 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. It has really motivated me to keep on writing this and to see this to its end.


	18. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So an update. There isn't an Naley here, it's kind of a filler chapter and there's a shift in POV at the end. I don't know if it's ok. I hope the shift was not so jarring. But we're nearing the end and we need all kinds of closures so, that's how this chapter went. Not sure if it worked as I wanted it to but please let me know what you guys think. There are still probably tons of mistakes that I missed and as usual, I'll probably come back and do some minor editing.
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. It has really motivated me to keep on writing this and to see this to its end.

**_Eighteen_ **

He goes home.

You know how this goes. It's the end of the day, man goes home, kicks off his shoes, stretches out on his favorite couch, closes his eyes, maybe relieve the madness of the day. Remember the best parts or maybe just try and forget everything, hope for that gentle drifting off to sleep without too much trouble. And then repeat.

See that's what normal people would do. Or at least that was how Nathan imagined it. What goes on inside the heavily curtained windows of their neighbors' house. It has never been that way for Nathan. It had never been that way with his father.

Dan liked to keep busy. As soon as he came home, he'd change into his workout clothes and go straight to their home gym. If Nathan was invited, which he often was, he would join his father. There won't be any father-son, "How's Your Day?" talk. There will be grunts and loud open-mouthed breathing as they lifted weights or engaged in any of the plethora of exercises programmed to get them into the best shape of basketball. Running. Muscle strengthening. Quicken their reflexes.

If Dan was not in the mood for that, then a good old one on one basketball game at their garage was in order. And you can bet your ass, it was a competitive, elbow to the face if he wasn't careful, kind of game.

They keep score. That is what he and his father were good at doing. _What are you bench pressing? Oh that? You can do better. Just because this is a half-court in our own garage, does not mean you cans slack off, son. What's your score? Well, here's mine, since you aren't counting. You trying to let your old man win? Because I can win this, Nathan, eyes closed and all. C'mmon, son, give me some kind of challenge here. If this is how you're playing, you are never going to get into Duke._

Nathan has all of this shit memorized because it is all just the same thing. Dan can dish them all out with a friendly, teasing smile but the moment Nathan beats him at whatever game they are playing, then it becomes a war zone. It always made his head spin. When he got older, he soon realized what triggered his father's scathing commentaries: losing.

Dan hated losing. Most especially to his son. So Nathan always made sure that Dan won by the smallest possible margin. Just to get him off of his back.

There was no rest and relaxation at home unless Dan was in the mood for it. Or unless it was Game Night, at which point, he and his mom (if Deb was home, which she rarely was, and Nathan couldn't even blame her for that, how sad is that?) are expected to sit through Dan being either overly aggressive (if his team is losing) or incredibly condescending to anyone and everyone. From the players, the coach, the whole coaching staff, the referees, the audience, the commentator.

That's not even the worst part. Somehow, whether they were watching the NBA or college football games, Dan is always able to get in a comment or two about Nathan's own games. Always. There is always something to be said about his basketball skill, his game IQ, his teammates, even his coach wasn't spared.

Nathan was just never sure if it was going to be good thing or a bad thing. Dan likes to dole out praises and criticism in equal amount, that way he is never sure what he'll be getting until after he had been encouragingly patted on the back or sneered at with obvious disappointment.

His mom would always suddenly sit still, lips pursed, knowing that if she tries to say anything, it might just escalate into a full blown fight and then they'd be at fault for ruining Dan's fun night. No one dared to interrupt Dan's ranting and raving. 

This was just one of the many reason why in high school he was barely home. He'd either stay with Tim and allow himself to be dragged in one of their many awkward family dinners and then afterwards, when it became obvious that Tim's parent's invitation only extended until after the dishes had been washed, he'd try to find some willing girl who would like to hang out with him at some party that was always happening at Tree Hill. There was always plenty of option. He'd gotten so used to late night parties and drinking that it barely affected his performance on the court. He never slacked off and always kept his mind on the game. He never had off nights. When he needed to play, he played with everything he got.

Ironically, this didn't impress both his father and Coach Whitey.

Coach Whitey and his father go way back. A long history of rolling their eyes at each other and sometimes, even childishly making faces when one's back was turned. Oh, he'd personally seen it happen one too many times. It was both hilarious and disconcerting. The two most important men in his life shared an unbreakable animosity towards each other. They both loved the game, they both respected the team, they both wanted what was "best" for Nathan, but they could never agree on what exactly that "best" meant.

Nathan often wondered why Whitey ever bothered giving him a slot at his basketball team, when clearly, he and his father would always be at odds with each other. No matter how many points he could score in a game or how impressive his dunks were, he would not be part of team without Coach Whitey's consent. Tree Hill High and even the town itself can lay claim to the Ravens, but those in the know knew that the Ravens existed because of Whitey Durham.

His early training, he owed it to his father. Maybe even his talent, but getting in the senior basketball team when he was just a freshman? Getting playing time? Being Captain of the team? That was all on Whitey.

He'd never gotten around asking Whitey why he had put up with the legendary stubbornness of the Scott father-son tandem. On his last year though, on the road to State, without much words being exchanged, Whitey had assured him that regardless of his asshole father and the asshole behavior his father inspires in him, he knew talent when he sees it, but most of all, he knew _heart._

And apparently, Nathan had that. He couldn't see it for himself, but it mattered to him that Whitey had believed in him enough to suffer through having Dan Scott constantly breathing down his neck, trying to take over the Raven's basketball team.

He'd tried it once too. Dan Scott, during Nathan's Junior Year, planned and executed a whole ass coup d'etat for the coaching position. And like everything in his dad's sad life, Dan had managed to get what he wanted only to fuck it all up. The one crucial game Dan had coached them, they lost spectacularly.

The School Board had not been impressed and Whitey, smugly and immediately took over. That little coaching stint was never, ever mentioned in Dan's presence. It was as if it had never happened at all. If they had, by some miracle, won that game, Nathan was sure his father would have done everything in his power to keep Coach Whitey out of the team. His father was a real piece of work.

Nathan somehow knew that even after he graduated from Tree Hill, he would never be truly free from his father's control. Worst, what if his new college coach was not like Whitey, who despite being old, Dan actually feared. His father could always make donations to the team, even to the school – donations which could be significant enough for him to gain some semblance of, not control, but influence. And that was all that Dan Scott needed to make Nathan's life a living hell.

The thought of a new coach had added to his ever growing list of anxieties. He remembered turning eighteen and already feeling old and worn out. He was tired and angry, the pressure of high school basketball and his last chance of getting the State Championship had all been a potent mixture for rebellion. His dad pushed him and pushed him and even though a part of him did recognize it as a way for Dan to make him become a better athlete, Nathan had had enough.

Sure, it had not been all that bad. At least not until the start of his Senior Year when suddenly, his entire future seemed to be staring straight at him and he felt trapped. What if this was not what he wanted? What if he had thought it was, but in reality, he was just doing it because his father had wanted to? Because all his life, he had been pushed towards this. And he had nothing else, no fall back plan, no other skills, no other hobby or interest. Nothing. It was just basketball. 

That scared the shit of out him to the point that he had even thought about quitting the team. But then the paralyzing question of " _and then what?_ " kept him doing just that. 

And all of those _feelings_ – well, he never directly handled them. He just sort of brushed them aside, tried to distract himself with parties, drinking, casual, random meaningless hook ups and even more parties.

Then, out of sheer fucking nowhere, Dan decided that he wanted to become the Mayor of Tree Hill and you can bet your ass they had to pretend to be the normal, perfectly perfect family for the whole duration of the campaign period. Which meant no parties, no drinking, no girls, just school and basketball games and big smiles for the cameras, arms around each other.

Nathan guessed that this was Dan's way of getting more power and influence and the only good thing that ever came out of that experience was that his father lost. His dad needed that lost. It was good for his already bloated ego and it completely wiped out any chance his father might have had in getting any ideas about becoming an influential politician father to a son who was a potential Division One NCAA basketball player with just a faintest buzz of a future career in the NBA.

Dan would have milked his small town mayorship to the very last drop, Nathan was sure of this. The disappointment must have really crushed Dan. No wonder his relationship with his father had massively deteriorated once he had gotten into Duke.

It was harder to have any control in Nathan's life now that he was out of Tree Hill and it was just like Dan to make sure that he did it all in one go every time they came for a visit. The only reason Dan did not leave Tree Hill was because it was his comfort zone. He was still a local hero, although no longer in the same new shiny way that Nathan was after they've won the state. Even though he hadn't won as the town's mayor, Dan Scott was still well known and respected in their community. He could not let go of that security and so his excessive bullying had to take a backseat.

It freed Nathan in some way and it frustrated his father to no end. And then the whole drama about being injured, the now shared shattered dream of never being able to go pro. It tore them apart. The final swing of the knife that cut off their ties.

Well, that and his untimely death.

Nathan realizes with a start, how easily he could remember all of these without so much as flinching. Those memories had always made him angry. It fueled whatever remaining hatred he had for this father and the relationship that he could never fix or heal. Now, thinking about it, there's a sudden new thought that pierced through it all: in everything that had happened, he would have had someone else who completely understood how he felt, the pressure to be the best, to step out of his father's shadow, to be his own man, to carve out his own path.

_Lucas._

His brother would have understood him better than Jake or Tim. Because as much as they are a part of his life, they never had Dan Scott for a father. But Lucas... could he have made a difference? Having someone in his life who would have known how exactly it felt every time Dan's name was mentioned in a conversation about basketball. 

He'd never know. Maybe he just wasn't supposed to. 

Nathan snorts a little, shaking his head as he remembered all those Dan-centered conversations he had had all of his life: _Oh! You're Dan Scott's son. You play ball too? Of course you do. Your father was a legend in Tree Hill. He was one of the best. You have his eyes. You're what, taller than him? I think you are. Play the same position? Beat your old man's scoring record?_

Nathan would still get that once in a while. Or a variation of it. Depending on how well they knew Dan. And don't get him wrong: he was proud that he had been able to follow his father's footsteps. The first part of his life, before basketball had become a competitive sport he played, when it was just the two of them at their backyard half-court, when they played because it was fun and they weren't keeping scores, Nathan **loved** those first few years. Those were one of the happiest moments of his life. He could still hear Dan laughing good-naturedly at his air balls, he could still clearly remember his father's smile when he made good shots and good passes. They could goof around then and it didn't matter who won or who lost. They had so many great times together.

Sometimes, Nathan wished it had stayed that way. How different his life would have been if only Dan didn't have his own demons that had drove him to act the way he did. It was like the moment it became obvious that his son was as gifted – maybe even more talented – than he was, Dan had become resentful and then proud and then resentful and it was a confusing cycle. For both of them. 

Nathan wished he knew why a part of Dan's life had been poisoned by basketball. It could not have been just because of a failed basketball career. Dan still had everything: a good, more than comfortable life, a loving wife, a son that idolized him. Was it the guilt of leaving Karen and Lucas behind? Was it regret? Was it disappointment? Anger at himself? At Karen for being young and pregnant and for forcing him to choose between her and his basketball dreams? Was it because he felt trapped when he made the same mistake with Deb, just months after escaping Karen and Lucas and Tree Hill? Was it because he had to come home, not having fulfilled anything the town had thought him destined for? 

All those questions, everything left unanswered. This was his father's version of haunting him. Not with ghostly apparitions but moments like this when he misses him and not miss him at the same time. It's enough to keep him awake, his mind always churning, always wondering.

* * *

Nathan is surprised to find his mother's car at the garage. Deb is never really home. Not if she can help it. She's been keeping herself busier than ever, acquiring more business to manage, taking her all over the states and sometimes even out of the country and yet, here is her Pontiac Solstice, announcing her presence.

He grimaces a little at the customized paint job, silver bullet, sleek and gleaming in the dark. It's not exactly a mom car but then again, when was his mom exactly a _mom_? He thinks it's weird and sad, the state of their relationship.

They have not had the best mother-son relationship when he was growing up. Dan monopolized his time and Deb had been resentful for that. But it had started to get better once he had gotten out of Dan's daily clutches. It's even heading towards affectionate.

Dan's death should have brought them closer and yet, there's a distance between them that he just could not understand. Maybe because he feels guilty for not being the perfect son and she feels guilty for not being the perfect mother and they both feel guilty for not having the guts to tell each other that, in truth, they both hated perfection - all the lies behind it. It's a facade. A trick. But they don't have the words to comfort each other, that all the flaws and shortcomings, all of that has been forgiven, and so there is only tentative silence between them. 

He kills the engine and glances at darkened house. It looks like no one is home, but there's a light in Deb's office and he knows she's there, probably having dinner and a glass of wine. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. He lets his eyes roam, lingering at the darkened, heavily curtained window of Dan's office, right above that was his own room, just as dark and heavily curtained. Nothing about their house looks inviting.

Oh, it's big alright. More modern looking now, after his mom had done some renovations. Bigger windows, a slicker, less bulkier look.

Home of the Scotts. One of the biggest McMansions in Tree Hill, the place to be during Dan's annual Kiss His Ass parties. It's not called that, of course. But it's a semi-formal event. Even the cheerleaders would dress up for it. He remembers it all so clearly. How he'd watch his father hold court over the adults, the younger members of the basketball team would surround him, listening intently to every bullshit he says.

Fun times.

Nathan lets out a tired sigh as he went it and heads straight to his father's office. He knows exactly what he needs, just isn't sure where to look. Or if it was still there. God he hopes so. This was his last chance for redemption.

He has decided on a peace offering. An important one. Or at least something that he hopes Haley would be interested in. Because let's be honest here: Nathan wants to see her again. Now. Tonight. And he has ran out of reasons to come knocking on her door, begging for her time, for her smile, for the way she looks at him with those bright, bright eyes of her.

So he has to come clean. He has to give her the truth. He owes her that. He wants to _not_ lie to her. He wants her to trust him. He wants her to _want_ to get to know him – everything about him: the good and the bad, the glorious and the ugly, the tainted past, the uncertain now, his inescapable connection to Lucas.

That is if Peyton has not told her yet. But if she has, he has to come back to Haley with something. A gift. An apology of some sort. One that isn't just _I'm sorry_ because she deserves more than that.

Nathan isn't sure how exactly he's supposed to tell her the truth and if she'd still want to even talk to him afterwards, but he has to try. This was something that he isn't going to brush aside or run away from. He is done being a coward. If he's going to really, truly live his life, then he has to take this risk. Otherwise he's afraid he might end up like his father, filled with guilt and regret.

He's done living the way Dan had lived his life. He's better than that. 

Nathan flicks the switch on and light floods the room. It's the first time he's been here since Dan died. Nathan acknowledges the burning pain in his throat. He misses him. Despite and in spite of everything. God, he miss him so much. He half expects to see him sitting on his chair, a glass of whiskey on one hand, an arched eyebrow as he asks him how's the game and Nathan will be quick to answer, "Buzzer beating, winning shot."

And Dan, in one of his rare good moods would raise the glass and wink at him, "That's my boy."

Nathan feels wistful. Forgiving. He does not stop the small chuckle, the pleased grin that he would have given his dad, as if he's actually physically here and they're having the conversation they have had for a thousand time.

He sits on his father leather chair and he imagines, for a moment, that he could still smell his father: a familiar minty aftershave, the scent of new leather, car fresher. Nathan leans back, is pleased that he does not feel small sitting in this massive chair. He remembers being a child, swiveling the chair around and around, Italian leather. The very best, Dan had told him. He makes half-turns, eyes going around the office, trying to see it from his father's perspective. The bookcase that held numerous family pictures catches his attention. He stops turning, feels a strong sense of connection: he knows the when and where and why and hows of every picture. His father had a lot of pictures of him in his uniform and Nathan feels the lessening of the pressure inside his chest.

Dan was not perfect but he loved Nathan. He was proud of him. Wanted what he thought was best for him. Worked hard to give everything that Nathan now has. Had shaped him into the man he now was.

And Nathan knows this was not the kind of love that he had wanted and wished for, but he understands it now: it was the kind his father had been able to give. And maybe, in the end, that was enough. That was all that mattered.

He takes a whole minute to just breathe in and be silent. "It's ok, Dad." He says this out loud and shrugs, not really expecting anything, just wanting to get that out. "I'm going to be ok."

* * *

He goes through his dad's drawers, finds old receipts, files from the Dan Scott Motors, a folded schedule of games from his Junior Year, x's and check marks on loses and wins. He knows exactly what he's looking for and was certain this was where he had last seen it but it takes him a while to find the old familiar steel box at the very bottom of the drawer. The key is no longer in the keyhole, but it's ok. It isn't locked. He braces himself, like has always done every time he brought this box out from its hiding place. He opens it but it's empty.

He knows it, just from the weight of it. He has held this box a thousand times, knows where the dents are (he moves his finger along the edges and find the warped metal, the unevenness of it, familiar and almost comforting – it's still there, see). His memory knows how heavy it is but he's still surprised to find everything inside of it gone. He stares at it blankly.

Of course.

It is never that easy.

He lets out a small curse and slams the box close.

* * *

Nathan finds his mom at the kitchen, washing the dishes. The wine glass is still full, but the bottle is now empty. He feels strangely irritated by this, but tells himself to calm down. It could not have been a newly opened bottle. He wasn't a wine drinker and this could be an old bottle, already half-full. Or half-empty. 

He takes a deep breath. "Where's Lucas's pictures, mom?" He does not have the time for small greetings but he feels slightly ashamed at the stunned expression on his mom's face as she turned to look at him, her greeting dying on her lips as she opened and closed them, obviously caught unaware by his very odd demand. "I mean, hi, mom. Sorry. I just – I need…"

"What?" Deb asks, still looking confused. She looks younger, somehow and Nathan realizes he hasn't really looked at her in a long time and he feels the full weight of that guilt now. He had lost his dad but his mom was still here. Apparently having grown her hair longer than he had ever seen it. Which probably explains why she suddenly look less like a widow and more like… her old photos from college. Like the one Dan had especially liked and framed, sitting at the corner of his desk. "Why?" She has turned all of her attention towards him.

_Why?_

Nathan remembers why. He swallows hard, tries out the words inside his head before voicing it out. He reaches out to cup his mom's elbow, ready to steady her if needed. Or maybe, it's the other way around. He needs to anchor himself to her because this will be the first time he'd say the words out loud, as a fact, as something that was now certain and irrevocable. "He died, mom. Lucas died and I went to his funeral."

Deb blinks up at him, her face serenely blank for a split second before crumpling into a frown. She shakes her head, shakes off the hand holding her. Nathan quickly lets go.

"What" she repeats again, disbelieving.

Nathan knows exactly how Deb is feeling. "We saw it on the paper, mom. And we… Jake and Tim and I, we went to the funeral. I met his bestfriend and I talked to Karen and Keith. And I just, I think I'm... I want her - Lucas's bestfriend, Haley, her name's Haley, I want her to have Lucas's pictures. The one inside dad's box but they're all gone and I... I just, where are they, mom? I need to give it to her."

He sounds both crazy and desperate. The disjointed story of today spilling out from him and this is not the best way to ask something from Deb because then she might think he's drunk or something, trying to make trouble - that poor girl, Haley - but how could he explain this his mom without getting into the details of Haley and the yellow light she brings with her and the way she looks at him and how it makes him feel, so he stands straighter, keeps his eyes on Deb's, letting her know how serious he is. How sane and sober and sure he is. 

Deb doesn't say anything. She clutches a hand towel, wrings it dry, twists it, but she keeps shaking her head. "Nathan I am… I don't know what to say." She says honestly and Nathan appreciates that she isn't ready with condolences and apologies, because what is she sorry for? Instead, he raises both hands and she steps in to give him a hug.

"It's ok, mom." Nathan tells her when he realizes that she's crying, mumbling through her tears and his shirt. How odd. The number of crying women he had had to comfort this day. It had never happened before but he feels strangely capable now. Not of handling grief, but with holding women in tears. 

"Oh no. Oh poor Karen."

He is surprised to hear this but before he could say anything, Deb had stepped away from him, turning her face away, her shoulder hunching up almost as if a defensive posture. Nathan watches silently as she wipes her tears with the back of her hand, sniffling softly. Nathan lets her have a moment to compose herself. He can't be impatient, even though a tiny part of him wants to remind her that he needs the pictures. He shifts from one foot to another, his hands going deep inside his pockets and as though reading his mind, Deb wordlessly gestures for Nathan to follow her and they end up in the masters bedroom.

It's huge and empty. No body sleeps here anymore. The sheets will be cool to the touch and the desks will be coated with a film of dust that will stick to the skin, leave a thumbprint on the surface. Deb kneels down, opens a drawer and takes a bundle of pictures and papers tied with a Raven blue ribbon. She sits down, pats the space beside her and Nathan obliges. He glances at the pictures over his mom's blonde hair, wondering who moved them here. Was it Dan? Did he wanted the comfort of reaching out by the night stand to look at the son he hadn't forgotten but never truly wanted? Was it his mom after his dad died?

"We never talked about it you know." Deb said, handing the tied bundle to him.

Nathan accepts it, his hand framing the smiling face of Lucas, aged two, all blonde hair and chubby cheeks. "It's a little too late for that mom, I think." What was there to talk about _now_? Nathan thought, without bitterness or resentment. He understands now why this was never discussed. It could not have been any easier for his mom to know that she wasn't the only one. That Dan had a clear, separate life before he'd met her. A life he had kept secret until Deb had to find out for herself.

He takes his mom's hand and gives it a squeeze. They went through this silently and in order to protect each other, they made the mistake of ignoring it and never talking about it. Hiding it inside this box, which had never been a secret in the place. Just a box that Dan kept.

"I'm sorry –"

Nathan shakes his head, stopping his mom. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

But Deb is just as stubborn as he was and she leans against his shoulder, her fingers reaching out to trace the faded edges of the photograph. "I shouldn't have let your father pressure you so much..."

"He didn't." Nathan turns so that Deb is forced to face him, the corner of her lips turned up in a knowing smile. "Well, yeah ok. He did. But not always. I was happy then, mom. I was." They both needed that assurance.

"Not always. Nate." There was a dismayed tone in his mom voice that made him wince.

"Well, who's always happy? No one." He knows the many times his mom and dad had tried to work on their marriage. They had attended counselling. Obviously it had not worked the way they had wanted it to but they stuck it till the end. That meant something. 

"Oh you know what I mean. Your dad can be difficult we both know that. It was him. It was me. It was us. We have regrets and then the resentment and instead of working on them - we ran away from it like cowards. We were young when… oh, it's not an excuse. It's not. We were both at fault and we took it out on you."

Nathan sighs. "We all took it out on each other."

Deb lets out a watery sigh that turned into a chuckle. "We did. Oh, how we did."

"I just wanted him to be proud of me, you know." Nathan mumbles this confession even though he knows his mom already knows this too.

"He was." Deb gives him a half hug, squeezing him to her. "You were everything that he had wanted you to be and more."

"Yeah." He takes a deep breath and there is no more pain inside his chest. There must have been something in his voice, in the way his shoulder had slumped down that made Deb grab his face, fingers curling on his chin, like the way she used to do when he was just boy and he wasn't several feet taller than her. "Nathan, you're not your father. You're not then. You're not now. You're _you_."

"I know, mom." This wasn't his fear. Not really. Even when he was younger he knew that he and Dan were not the same. And it isn't just Whitey who had told him this, he knew it instinctively. What he feared had nothing to do with Dan Scott. 

"Good, I just wanted you to know that." Deb gives him a full hug.

"Thanks, mom." He drops a quick kiss on top of his mom's head. Like the way she used to when he was younger, on the rare times that she'd read him a book before going to sleep, or during the earliest days of his basketball career, when the pain of losing was still sharp enough to make him want to cry. 

They were silent for a few minutes before Nathan starts feeling the need to move, he's never been the kind of person who could sit still, especially not when he has to go back to Haley.

_Haley._

It's like a siren song, calling to him. One he can't ignore. No, check that. One he doesn't want to ignore. 

* * *

Deb notices him glancing at the photos and his watch, realizes that he had said ' _her'_ earlier. What was her name? Haley, was it? And, like a mother, puts two and two together, she immediately thinks this isn't just some girl if Nathan feels the need to give her Dan's treasured mementos of Lucas.

Lucas's bestfriend. 

There is something strangely ironic about that. Or maybe, not irony but destiny. 

She glances up at the profile of her son, the way his blue eyes are gleaming brightly, suddenly full of hope. She could almost glimpse her little boy in the way Nathan nervously twitches his lips, impatient, eager to get away from her. She stifles a smile, wondering how this will all end. Happily, she prays.

She shifts away from Nathan, ready to let him go, glancing at pictures that Nathan was holding one last time. In her mind, she remembers each one of them with clarity. The little moments of Lucas's life that Dan had not been able to become a part of.

She has held on to them for far too long and she knows this was the right time to let go. She had always wanted to reach out to Karen and Lucas but she could not figure out how. It seemed bold and assuming of her to go knocking on their door, wanting to get to know them. And now, she'll never have the chance with Lucas. But, here was her son and she could not remember the last time they had ever sat like this, being kind to each other. She didn't know when she'll have another moment with Nathan like this and she thinks of the one thing she had wanted to tell Nathan but never had the courage to. 

Deb watches as Nathan's knees starts to jiggle, the small movement restrained but familiar. Dan did the same too whenever he was anxious. Oh how they were alike in so many things, it was startling when she sees it with her own eyes. It reminds her of how Nathan was as a boy: never quietly sitting at a corner, always at the center of the room, boisterous, happy, all eyes on him and it comes to her, the words that needed to be said: "It wasn't your fault that he chose us."

Deb expects Nathan to be surprised but he merely nods at her and this is the first time she glimpses the kind of man her son is set to become. The maturity she thought would never come after years of her spoiling him and Dan pressuring him. Their push and pull, good cop bad cop parenting that had done wonders in screwing up their son.

Or maybe, not screw up. Hopefully.

"I know." Nathan tells her and Deb believes him. They mumble through awkward I love yous and don't come home so late before Nathan leaves and as soon as he is gone, Deb picks up the phone.

She dials the number she has memorized by heart. The number she has meant to call so many years ago and hadn't gotten the courage to ever really dial. Somehow, she knows that today is the day and when she silently waits and listen to the phone ring, she promises herself that she'll be a better mother. She's more than capable of that and most of all, Nathan deserves it.

"Hello?" The voice is tiny, quavery, almost dream like.

"Hi. Karen?"

There is only silence.

Deb imagines Karen swallowing down anger and tears. "Please don't hang up. I just... I heard what happened and I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I am so sorry. For everything."

"It doesn't make everything ok."

"I know." Deb is startled to find no anger in Karen's voice. There's only the kind of calmness found when stating an undeniable fact. 

"You still have Nathan. I lost Lucas. I lost my boy."

And now she hears the tears and the anguish and Deb feels it too. "I know, Karen. I cannot imagine how ---" for a moment she thinks of losing Nathan and her heart stops. Not now, not when they've just found each other again. She takes a deep breath, lets her own tears fall freely. "It would be an honor if you'd let me be your friend, Karen. Please tell me that I'm not too late."

The pause is just half a heartbeat. Deb knows, she had felt it.

"Lucas always says, he always says: it's never too late for anything, mom."

And over the phone, they both cried for everything that they have lost and for the kind of hope that women, mothers most especially, are always able to find even in the worst of times.

\- tbc -


	19. Nineteen

**_ Nineteen _ **

Nathan almost missed the exit for Oak Hill. It isn’t the same, driving here at night, when everything is unfamiliar, dark shadows and buildings he does not recognize. He’d only played a few times at Oak Lake High; they were not in the same bracket. Plus, he’d always the taken the bus for away games for the simple reason that he could avoid long drives with Dan.

It was never fun, sitting through Dan trying to go over the many plays he had created. Not even Coach Whitey did that. And Coach Whitey would have blown a fuse if he had found out that Dan devised his own plays and would pressure Nathan to follow it instead of what the team had practiced.

People thought Nathan’s main goal in life was to win basketball games. No. His number priority was to avoid bloodbath at all cost. Not the kind of thing seventeen year old boys should have been worrying about, but that was his life. 

Game Days were always filled with tension that was given. But Oak Lake games were another level altogether. For one, Oak Lake was a great team, they were evenly matched. It did not help that on his senior year, Luacas had become co-captain with West. It was another reason why Nathan had always sat at the back of the bus, mentally preparing himself for what he knew was a battle of not just basketball skills, but something bigger.

At least to him it had always been about proving himself. He was not sure how Lucas felt about it. He’d never seen Lucas be overly zealous, not once had he heard Lucas demanding for the ball. In fact, every time they played against each other, it seemed as though Lucas barely cared. Nathan remembering being pissed by Lucas’s attitude. It wasn’t about _him_ of course but Nathan could not help but feel that Lucas held back because he _had to._ Either because he was trying to keep an even lower profile than was possible or because he thought so little of his younger brother that he could not be bothered.

This made Nathan all the more determined to get all the points, all the rebounds, the steals, the assists, the last winning shot. He wanted to show off, he wanted _everyone_ in Oak Lake to remember his name. He wanted them to know that _he_ was the better son and that it why Dan had chosen him.

Looking back now, it was obvious that it was all inside his head. This rivalry between him and Lucas, it was never there. It didn’t exist. It was just his ego. No one cared about that. No one except Damien West that is.

Oak Lake is a huge town. Its population triple the size of Tree Hill – it wasn’t even a basketball town. They Lions were good, but their football team was even better. Few people in Oak Lake probably knew about Lucas’s real dad or his half-brother playing for the other team. It wasn’t some fun fact mentioned in game commentaries. Even when Oak Lake played in Tree Hill, the highlighted rivalry was between him and Damien West. Why would people talk about Dan Scott’s bastard son when his actual son, captain and star player of the Ravens was having a side court brawl with West?

Nathan had wasted all those year driving himself to his very limit, trying to be the best and there had never been any competition. Not in Lucas’s eyes, anyway.

He shakes his head. He had always told himself that what Lucas thought about him did not matter. In the end, it was _all_ that should have mattered and he had been too young, too foolish, to filled with pride to have ever realized it.

“Why the fuck did we never bothered to talk to each other?” He asked out loud, wondering at this startling revelation. “Was it because of Dan? Or because were both too terrified to be rejected? Was that it, huh?” Nathan fights the urge to be angry and resentful. It could not be all on him or on Lucas or on Dan or even their moms and Keith. It was all on them. No one tried hard enough. No one wanted to be the first to usher in peace between the two worlds that Dan had effectively split in the middle.

“Sorry, man.” Nathan mumbles, throat aching. “We should have been better. I know that now. So help me out here. Help me be better. Help me, Lucas.”

Nathan doesn’t really know exactly what kind of help he was asking but he knew he needed something. A change in the way he had been living his life. A better dream to dream – no, a new reason to dream, to believe, to want things again and to know that he deserves them. Happiness and family and love.

_ Haley _ .

“Please.” Nathan mutters, driving past Karen’s Café, now closed, shades drawn down, dark and empty. He briefly hopes that Karen had Keith with her. They need each other now, more than ever. Pushing them out of his mind, he concentrates on driving into the heart of Oak Lake, Lucas’s home.

* * *

He remembers Haley’s address, but even before he arrived, he already knows she won’t be there. How? It’s impossible to tell. There’s just something inside of him that couldn’t feel her. It’s strange and he isn’t smart enough to even try to explain it but he knows how he _feels_. He’s been acting purely on instinct now and he isn’t about to question it.

Still he parks his car, thunders up the stairs, taking two steps at the time. Nathan doesn’t pause to think about what he is about to do or what he’ll have to say. He raises his hand, knocks on her door and listens, craning his neck, trying to take a peek on her curtained windows. “Please, please please.” It’s a strange prayer, but it falls on his lips, unbidden and he thinks if he wants it badly, if he hopes for it like never before, he can find her. He _will_ find her.

_ Haley. _

The door swings open and he jerks in surprise, placing himself firmly on the doorway.

Peyton glares at him and his face might have clearly showed his disappointment because she adds a glower, her green eyes flashing. “What the hell are you doing Nathan?”

“Did you tell her?” He demands in a voice that didn’t seem to belong to him. It’s all choked up and shaky. He clears his throat, tries again. “Is Haley mad? I didn’t mean to – I just need to – please, she has to understand.”

“You are not making any sense, Nathan. What is wrong with you?” Peyton takes a step closer, sniffing. “Are you drunk?”

_ Drunk?  _ Nathan clenches his fist on his sides, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. “Haley. I didn’t tell her the truth about Lucas. I don’t know why – I mean,” he mirrors Peyton rolling her eyes. “I know _why_. You think I was proud of how much of a jackass I had been? But I want to do the right thing. For once. I want to do the right thing, Peyt. And I am **_not_** drunk.”

Peyton gives him a long, hard look. Her expression is unreadable and Nathan feels like a rubber band being slowly, slowly stretched and it won’t take much for him to snap. He opens his mouth, already feeling the small burn of familiar irritation but before he can say anything, something changes in Peyton’s expression.

The softness that she tries to hide briefly flashes on her face and Nathan remembers exactly why he had been attracted to her – that vulnerability that Peyton hates, that she tries to deny – it was a reflection of his own stupid pride. He feels his shoulder dropping, the tension in his body relaxing for a fraction.

“Oh, Nathan.” Peyton sighs softly, shaking her head.

Nathan knows that look. It’s the look Peyton used to give him when they both know he’s about to do something really dumb. He shakes his head. “No. Peyton. Don’t.”

Peyton is shaking her head. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I mean, Haley’s already been through a lot, Nathan. A lot.”

“I know that!” He shoves his hand through his hair. “Look, I can’t explain it. I don’t know how to, okay? But I know I have to find her. I need to.” He is almost pleading now but he does not care. There are few moments in his life when he feels a strong desire to do something not because it went directly against what Dan wanted or because it’ll make his basketball dreams come true. This is solely for him. The heart wants what it wants, it does not demand logic. It demands to act _now_.

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He knows how important this is and he isn’t just going to back away so easily.

Peyton tilts her head up, meeting his eyes. How many times have they stood like this? Too many? Not enough for it to matter? He watches as she brings her hand up, as though to touch him – but she changes her mind. Instead, she wraps her arms around her body. “You already know where she is.”

Nathan blinks. And it clicks inside his mind. _Of course._

_ Lucas. _

* * *

He sees her standing a few feet from the cemetery gates. There is no car anywhere near her and Nathan winces at the thought that she had walked all the way here. What the fuck was wrong with Peyton, letting Haley go out in this state?! Nathan lets the surge of protectiveness wash over him, he needs to familiarize himself with it. This will be constant thing. The need to make sure that she is safe and taken care of. Never unhappy. Always loved.

Nathan swallows hard, silently accepting _that_ challenge. Yes. Let me do all of that. Let me _try_ at least. He takes a small step towards her, eyes adjusting to the darkness and suddenly, he feels it, senses it, smells it: that static electricity; the scent of something earthy and musky, sharp and fresh. Something hanging in the air. Something heavy and heady. It fills everything around them.

_ It’s going to rain,  _ he thinks, glancing up at the starless sky. From the summer blue of this morning to this relentless darkness. Nathan is unnerved by this realization – of how quickly things can change and he thinks it can’t be a good sign, but he’s here now and there’s no way he’s going to walk away from this. From her.

Now or never, Scott. Don’t brick it.

There’s not enough light from the street lamps but he sees the outline of her shoulders hunched and tense. The dim orange light seems to have stolen her halo. She’s so tiny. Everything seems to be towering over her. If he stands shoulder to shoulder to her, the top of her head would barely reach his jaws.

The steel gates, intricate leaves and arches and curves, are painted black. It’s like a black outline drawn against a black shadow. It’s unnerving, especially in the silence that surrounded them. He did not want to startle her, so he clears his throat and softy calls her name: “Haley.” 

Too soft. Barely above a whisper. He calls her again. The way the syllables of her name teases the insides of his mouth, it makes him shudder and shiver.

This time, she hears him. Nathan watches as Haley hugs herself, the cardigan she had hastily thrown over her looked flimsy and light, not enough to warm her. “I get so easily spooked.” Haley starts, angling her head to the side to briefly look at him before slowly turning back to stare at the closed gates. She lets out a small, indelicate snort. “Lucas liked to scare me sometimes. He’d insist on taking stupid shortcuts. Shorcuts that required going through cemeteries. He’d walk ahead and hide and wait for me and jump out from his hiding place. I think I broke his nose one time.”

“Guess he deserves that.” Nathan ambles towards her. He feels nervous. Keyed-up. He makes it a point to stand a few inches away from her. Enough to see her face but not to touch any part of her. Too soon. Too dangerous.

Haley lets out a sigh that sounded like it had come from the very bottom of her soul. “I just miss him so much.” She turns towards him and Nathan is left without a choice but to look at her full-on. There are no tear stains, but the pain etched on her face is clear enough, it clenches at Nathan’s heart. “Will it get better?”

“Sometimes.” This is also a murmured admission on his part because he had been lying to himself and to everyone around him all these time. How many times had he told anyone who had checked up on him that he was fine? That it was getting better? That he was getting there – to wherever it was that wasn’t filled with pain and the constant startling realization that his father is gone. He clenches his jaws and finds the words for her without the lie. “Some days are almost near okay. Some days are worst and you just want to lie down forever and never ever get up.”

Haley blows out a small breath, her lips pursing before she clamps them together, pressing hard. She’s trying not to cry and Nathan didn’t want to watch the struggle on her face. They stand for a few minutes in complete silence before she breaks it with the question that he dreads the most: “Nathan, why are you here?”

He’ll have to start from the very beginning and so he takes a deep breath and then the confession starts. “I'm... my Dad, he died of HCM.”

“Like Lucas.” Her voice is soft, sympathetic but there’s really no question there. Nathan is too anxious to catch on to that, or at least hold that thought long enough for it to bother him. This was not how he had planned on starting the whole sordid conversation with Haley. He had made a reasonable outline of how he was going to present his side of the story and starting it with Dan’s death was not part of that plan.

And now, everything is all muddled up inside his head and he’s suddenly scared that he’s going to screw this up like had screwed up everything in his life. That he will revert to being defensive and angry. It’s just the absolute worst case scenario. He swallows hard, grasping for the right words. He takes a quick glance at Haley, who has now twisted her body so she was facing him. Too close and yet Nathan could not move away. Instead, he shoves both hands inside the pockets of his jeans, his fingers nervously clenching and unclenching. “Yeah. A year ago.”

_ There. That wasn’t so bad. _

“And?” There’s a sharpness in her voice now and something small and terrifying stirs inside his chest, he imagines hearing the click of claws being unsheathed and somewhere at the back of his mind, it’s becoming abundantly clear ---- but no. He refuses to acknowledge that fear.

_ Just keep going. No matter what, just keep on going. Don’t stop now. _

Nathan closes his eyes. The truth. Nothing but. Everything. Even the ugly things that he had felt and had dwelt inside the corners of his mind. “And when he died, I was so angry at him because it felt like he took everything from me. Basketball was **_his_** dream and suddenly he’s no longer here and I don’t have a dream anymore.”

He stops, bites his lips and shakes his head. He looks at Haley, her face hidden in his own shadow as he towers over her. He steps back a little, if only to give her back her light, revealing the gentleness in her eyes, her mouth slightly parted, waiting for him to finish what he has to say, trying to understand him.

“No. That’s not true. It was still _my_ dream. And my dad dying did not take that away from me. _I_ took it away. I rejected it not just because I got injured but because I felt like I had betrayed the game that had given me so much.”

“But you love playing.”

“I do. God, I do. But I think I played mostly because of him. For him. And it feels… I feel like a fraud.”

“You were mourning your father. It’s grief.” Haley takes a tentative step towards him. Too afraid of what her touch would do to him, Nathan stiffens and flinches. Haley must have seen it or felt it, because she took two steps back.

“It was an excuse. Grief. I mean, yeah sure. Maybe there’s that too. But it’s not - I’ve stepped out of Dan’s shadow, I’m no longer _just_ his son who also happened to play ball. But I’ve always – a part of me has always wondered if there’s something else that I could be great at. Not just basketball. Not something that has been given to me since I was a child. I didn’t have a choice. Not really. Not when that was how I grew up. Everything had always been centered on basketball.”

Haley winces up at him, her whole face tilted up as she patiently listened. “And when my father died – I was –” Impossible to put into words how he felt --- he had been sad. Devastated. Like a part of him had died too. But also, he felt _free._

How could he explain that to her? Nathan lets out a frustrated sigh. “I thought, this is it. I can quit. I can stop and try to figure out _me_ without Dan or basketball. So I did it. I quit. But then I realized that it wasn’t even about that at all.” Nathan stops to catch his breath. He hasn’t said so much about his father, he hasn’t even tried to understand what he felt but now, tonight, with Haley, words were rushing out faster than he could grasp at them. He couldn’t stop himself. He’s torn between wanting to clamp his mouth shut before he tells her things he might regret later and just letting everything out.

Strange how it easy this seems to be. Offering the truth to a complete stranger. A girl he had just met this morning. A girl who makes him feel like he had known her all his life. Or at least maybe, from another lifetime. Like she was a missing piece inside of him and now, everything just sort of clicked into place. 

“Nathan, you don’t have to -”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s okay. I do. I have to.” If he stops now, he’d lose these thoughts, these words. “My relationship with my father was complicated. He was both the best and the worst – and for the longest time I had always thought – I had convinced myself, that I’m good enough, that I’m better than him and I can do anything I wanted without him but when he died, well, turns out I needed him more than I had wanted to admit.”

There it was. The truth. He cringes at the silence that surrounds them. He can only concentrate on Haley’s eyes – which had gotten darker, a deeper shade of brown. He swallow hard. “I didn’t want to lose my dad. No matter how difficult our relationship had been, he’s still my father and yeah, he’s a jackass, but I love him. And I miss and I feel lost without him. Suddenly not having him, not having a dad, it’s was overwhelming.”

Haley’s face crumples and Nathan is surprised at how he has to stop himself from grabbing her and crushing her to him. He wants so badly to comfort her – because, goddammit, he’s turned it all about him when she’s the one grieving. He hadn’t meant to give her anymore reason to be upset.

She holds out a hand, stopping him from taking a step towards her. Her head is bent, a curtain of her hair falling around her. Her other hand is pinching the bridge of her nose. She takes a deep breath before squaring her shoulder. She looks at him, straight in the eye and something in her face hardens just a little bit. “I think Lucas felt the same way too.”

Nathan feels his stomach dropping. His breath hitches and suddenly he can’t breathe at all. He blinks at her. “What are you talking about?”

“About your father. Dan. Lucas felt the same way about him.”

“ ** _What_**?”

Haley looks away, bites her lips and shoves her hand through her hair. She brings her half closed fist underneath her jaw, as though forcing herself to meet his eyes. She shakes her head, sadly. There is nothing but pure misery in her eyes as she made her own confession. Her voice is soft, softer than the first few tentative drops of the incoming rain. “C’mmon, Nathan, I’m not stupid.”

It sinks in. The way she’s looking at him now and maybe – maybe he had known all this time. Or a part of him had guessed it. Had understood it. That they were doing some strange dance to a music only they could hear and now, the crashing end of that nameless song has fallen around them.

_ Truth for truth. _

It starts to lightly drizzle, but they both ignore it.

“I know.” Was the only reply he can come up and it seems fitting because it answers _everything_.

Haley sniffs and bites her lips, looking past his shoulder, jaws moving as she grinds her teeth. She crosses her arms protectively around her. “Then were you planning on ever telling me?”

“Yes.” He snaps at her and then realizes that he hadn’t told her, actually. “I mean. No. Not at first, I didn’t want to tell you.”

“So is that why you’re here? To tell me that Lucas is your brother.”

“Half-brother.” Nathan corrects, borne out of habit, more than anything else.

Haley sends him a glare. “Big difference, huh?”

"And what about you?” Nathan couldn’t help but feel angry too. Why had he not realized this sooner? How could he have been so blind? And so stupid. “What you just played along, see what sort of a jerk I am?” The bitterness in his voice almost made Haley jump and briefly, he regrets it, but he can’t help but feel defensive. “Did I live up to the expectation?” He asks, sneering at her.

By now, the drizzle has turned into a full-fledge rain shower and fat droplets are falling on them, plonking on Haley’s face, like tears dropping on her cheeks. And because she looks impossibly more beautiful than ever and because he knows he can’t ever, ever have her now, he throws in the towel, together with what remained of his already broken heart. “I hope I didn't disappoint you."

Haley does not back down. She does not turn away from him in disgust, does not even agree with him at all. She takes a step towards him, eyes flashing. "Just this very second actually. Up until the last minute before you've just said that, I was thinking ‘I wish Lucas had gotten to know you.’ He would've been proud of you.” Haley blinks up at him, lashes wet and dark, sweeping against the skin under her eyes “You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

Nathan shrugs. Why is she making this even more difficult? This was hopeless. "I guess he never told you how I used to spit on the ground he walked on. How I always tried to get in an elbow to his ribs whenever I could. How I used to tell him that he's nothing but stain in the bedsheet. I didn't want you to know about _any_ of that.” He paused, reading the expression on Haley’s face. “But you do, don't you?"

"Luke tells me everything."

Horrified, Nathan stumbles back. "Well, **_shit_**." The rain is pounding on them now and Nathan knows this is how it will all end. In wet, cold, misery.

"Nathan..."

It was his turn to ask her. "Why? Why didn't _you_ tell me?"

"You would've walked away!” Haley throws her hand on the side, the soaked sleeves of her cardigan sticking to her skin, a small arc of water following her movement. “I saw it on your face when we were talking in Lucas's room. Tell me the truth, if I had said something back then would you have stayed?"

Nathan doesn't answer. "Why does it matter?" He sadly mumbles, not really caring if the rain was pelting his face. If he suddenly starts crying, at least she wouldn’t know. He bites his lips hard and tells himself that he will definitely not start crying.

"Because I wanted you to stay! I needed you stay!"

The impassioned declaration throws him off. But Nathan is done getting his hopes up. He licks his lips, rainwater dribbling down his chin. _Where the fuck is this rain coming from?!_ He inanely thinks for a moment before muttering darkly, "So you could see for yourself what kind of a jackass I was?"

Haley glowers up at him. "Stop saying that."

Nathan lets out a well-practiced uncaring nod. "Why? It's true isn't?"

Haley angrily jabs a finger on his chest then quickly pulls it away. "Lucas is my bestfriend and whether you like it or not you're his brother and I don't know about you but I know that Lucas would have wanted me to give you a second chance. **_I_** wanted to give you a second chance."

Nathan is suddenly tired and confused and the accompanying lightning didn’t seem to be a good sign. He isn’t going to fight this anymore. He should have never come back to Oak Lake. This is clearly a massive mistake. "And you think I deserve that? A second chance?"

"What do you think?” Haley lifts up her chin, daring him to answer.

“I think…” _I think you’re so hot, standing in the rain like that arguing about me being a good guy and I couldn’t bear it if I can’t live up to your expectation.._ Nathan closes his eyes, shakes his head in defeat. “I think… I’d only disappoint you.”

“That's funny, I thought that's my decision to make. But, okay, fine, c'mmon, convince me why you don't deserve a second chance and I swear Nathan, I'll let you walk away and I'll never bother you again."

He didn’t like the way she said _never_. The finality of it. "You think you know everything about me, about my family or whatever. I spent years trying to be better than Lucas, than everyone else so that my father can't throw back it my face that I was wrong the son, that I was the wrong choice."

There’s only one logical reason why he’s self-sabotaging and its fear – because this isn’t how he had wanted to tell Haley about him. Not like this. So abruptly. In the middle of an argument **_and_** a storm! This isn’t how he planned earning her trust, winning her heart. Nathan is aware of this but he can’t stop himself. What is wrong with him?!

_ Stop being a coward. _

Of course, as with everything else, it’s always easier said than done. What he needs is to call a fucking time out and figure this out. Without thinking, he grabs Haley by the arm, wordlessly pulling her to his side and walking almost blindly towards his car.

Lightning flashes again as Haley yanks her arm from his hold. “What are you doing?”

“We’re soaked. We’re going to get hit by lighting. And I can’t believe this is happening.” Nathan grits out, looking up at the sky, trying not to entirely lose his control and do something much, much more drastic.

Like maybe kiss her.

Because how could she still want to give him a second chance after everything that she knows he had done. Impossible. Completely unreasonable. It’s fucking insane is what it is and he didn’t think his heart would be able to take if Haley was doing this out of pity. Or some strange best friend pact she’d made with Lucas.

_ Take care of my little brother for me when I die. He’s a miserable ass. Promise me that you will, Haley. _

Nathan winces at thought. He opens the door and when Haley refused to move, he is forced to not so gently shove her inside. It’s for her own good. He ignores her protests as closes the door and then dumbly stands in the rain.

Well, now what? Being inside a small enclosed space with her, with emotions running high suddenly didn’t seem like such a bright idea. Nathan notices the car window rolling down, Haley’s face scowling at him. “Nathan. Get in. Right now.”

Did he have any other choice when she said it like that? Of course not. Feeling all sorts of numb and wet, and nervous and pissed off, Nathan clambers up the driver side, shutting the door with an impressive slam.

They were both breathing loudly, almost in tune with the staccato sound of the rain hitting the car. Hands shaking, praying that Haley wouldn’t notice, he wordless turns the heater on, warm air blessedly blasting them.

“Where in God’s name is _this_ rain coming from?!” Haley asks in exasperation, echoing his earlier thought. She starts to wring her hair dry and Nathan is fascinated by her jerky, angry movements. He had thought her soft and gentle, delicate but he’s never seen anyone as fierce as her. It’s ---- it’s a definite turn on.

When she notices him watching her, she mutters an apology, realizing that she’s probably ruining his leather car seats.

“I don’t care about that.” Nathan mumbles, leaning back to grab his ever ready gym bag. Towels. To dry them off and cover up the way her yellow dress is clinging to her body and the way _he_ was reacting to it.

Distracting. Dangerous.

He hands Haley a towel and for himself, an old practice shirt. They both silently kept themselves busy trying to get dry. It was a lost cause. Every time he moves, his shoes would make wet, embarrassing squelching sounds. He tried to remember where they had stopped at their shouting match.

He was saying he was jerk and she should forget about him. _God._ Nathan wants to smack himself. This is why he hates being angry. He gets defensive and then feels guilty for being defensive, so he gets aggressive and then says the dumbest shit. 

“I’m sorry.” They both mumble at the same time, eyes straight ahead, trying to figure out the blurred trees and shadows moving outside. Then, realizing how incredibly silly that was, they turned their heads to look at each other. They apologized again, grimacing at each other.

After a few more minutes, Haley finally twists her body, pulling her knees up so that she could face him. Nathan is too tall to fold his knees so, he places his two hands on the steering wheel, because he does not know what else he could do with them. He glances at Haley, waiting for her to say something.

"Nathan, I can't begin to imagine what you've gone through. And I’m sorry for that, I am. But you're forgetting that Lucas went through it as well." Haley’s voice had gone back to being calm and almost gentle. She still sounded frustrated, clearly not having wholly forgotten their argument. Which was probably for the best.

He wants her. He still wants her. But not like this. Not tainted with the knowledge that she knew every single pain he had caused Lucas. There’s just no redemption from that. _Right?_

"Well I'm not perfect like him, okay? I didn’t turn the other cheek or walked away. I dealt with it by being a complete and utter bastard, which you already know, so I won’t go into details about that anymore.”

And this is what’s pissing him off. Even if Nathan had meant to tell Haley the truth, he didn’t plan on giving her the excruciating specifics. That she already knows – he squirms in dismay at just how much Lucas had told about him.

Nathan also feels oddly irritated at his brother for giving Haley this unfair upper hand. He knows almost next to nothing about Haley. To him, she’s pure and perfect and okay, she gets angry really fast and for someone as tiny as her, she can be quite intimidating – but she _knows_ all the immature, ugly side of him. He can’t help but compare himself to Lucas, who seemed practically like a saint. “I am not him, Haley."

"I'm not saying you are. Or that you need to be!" Haley’s infuriated tone perfectly matches his own feelings.

Nathan lets out a sigh. “Well who do you want me to be?”

“The guy who made sure I wasn’t alone inside Lucas’s room; who patiently taught me how to shoot a basket-”

“Granny style.” He grumbled, interrupting her. He sneaked a glance at her and marvelled at the way she snorted at him. 

“You think I care about that?” 

“Well you should. No one shoots basket like that. Unless they’re like, eighty years old.”

“Nathan.”

“Look, I don’t know what to say Haley. I wish I could be that guy. I do. I really do. But I just --- I’m not even hallway being there. My life is in shambles. Today was the first time I’ve ever done something that wasn’t for me. This is first time I’ve talked about Dan or Lucas and it’s –” Nathan stops and bites his tongue.

_ And it’s all just because of you _ . _And I don’t want to be your charity case or your, whatever mission for Lucas._

_ I want to be perfect for you. _

"It’s what?” Haley prompts, her eyes huge and warm.

“It’s… I wish I had his life. I wish my dad...Shit. Fucking shit. I should have never gone to his stupid funeral."

Haley visibly flinches at his cursing. "Lucas never hated you, you know. He was always sorry about what happened between the two of you.”

Nathan grips the steering wheel so hard, his hands started to ache. He fixes his gaze at the splotches of water running down in rivulets, branching out into different directions and then quickly being washed away. “I didn't mean to be an ass to him. I mean I did, but I was young. I was stupid and childish and I yeah, guess I did hate him.” He hears Haley’s sharp intake of breath. “When I was younger, every birthday wish was ‘I wish I didn’t have a bastard half-brother.’” He glances at Haley, desperately tried to memorize her face. “I guess it finally came true, huh?”

Haley looks as though he had struck her. Her face had become pale and then very softly, in a voice that cracked and broke, she said: “I should go.”

Nathan wants to reach out to her and touch her, just for a second, but he knows he can’t. He swallows the lump in his throat. "Haley, I'm – it’s raining like crazy. Just, let me drive you home. Please. You don't, you don't even have to talk to me."

Haley bites her lips and wordlessly nods her head.

And then it was only the sound of rain.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this way back in 2007. Barely changed anything, just the grammar and spelling mistakes that I was able to catch. All the rest that I missed, I have to apologize in advance. I stopped writing this in June 2012. Which is wow. 
> 
> So many thing happened to me that year and I just didn’t have the time or the energy to write anymore. Fast forward to 2020 and this pandemic and the three months quarantine made me re-watch One Tree Hill and I just sort of remembered this fanifc and how I have so utterly abandoned it I thought, well, I think I might try and finish it. So, here we are. I don’t know how different my writing still will be, after all it has been 8 years, but hey, what else do I have to do with all these free time staying home? 
> 
> Also, this is plenty dark and angsty – I guess it kind of mirrored my frame of mind then.


End file.
